


I Come Back to the Place You Are

by fallingpanda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Help, James and Lily are adorable, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Original Character(s), Pansexual!Sirius, Remus is gay, Remus wears a lot of cardigans, Slow Burn, Snape is somewhat albeist, There will be sex, i don't know how to use tags, maybe some drarry? we'll see, my first published fic, obviously, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingpanda/pseuds/fallingpanda
Summary: Sirius is an art teacher at Hogwarts, where the Golden Trio are soon graduating, and their absence will surely take some of the magic out of his job . . . but the new librarian shows some potential.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY VERY FIRST PUBLISHED FIC! :D As such I literally need comments to breathe and sustain me (and, you know, get constructive criticism or whatever).  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: I'm back! And I've revamped the first 13 chapters of this fic! :) Don't worry, the core Wolfstar has been almost completely untouched; I only took out some parts I wasn't crazy about (most noticeably Hermione/Ron), and changed the narration so there are only Sirius and Harry POV chapters. If you don't feel like rereading the whole thing, you really don't have to (except check out Chapter 6, which is completely brand-new). As a bonus I've also added a new chapter. :) Enjoy!

Sirius loved the smell of a new school year---not just the smell, but the sight and sound and simply the  _ feel _ of his empty art classroom, drenched in weak early morning sunlight. Standing in the immaculately disastrous art room, less than an hour before it was going to be filled with students, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. Sirius had been cheerful and excited all morning---for days, really. This morning he had been especially energetic, annoying his bleary-eyed godson to no end with his bright-eyed, bushy-tailed energy.

Sirius had spent the early morning bouncing around the Potter kitchen, fueling himself with coffee, chattering about his plans for the year's lessons while Harry slowly ate his porridge. He only shut up (temporarily), when James shuffled into the kitchen and gave Sirius a smart slap on the arse before leaping away from the inevitable counterattack. Harry had lifted his sleepy eyes from his breakfast long enough to snort at the visage of his wounded-looking godfather, rubbing his backside and giving James his puppy-dog eyes. 

"Prongs! What have you got against a little school spirit?" Sirius bemoaned, dramatically throwing his upper body onto the kitchen next to James, who was preparing his coffee.

"I've got a problem against it when it's coming out of your cavernous maw and robbing me of precious sleep. We're not as young as our sprightly Harry here, Padfoot, us creaky adults need a sensible amount of rest." 

The look Harry threw towards his father suggested that he felt anything but sprightly, but he was mollified by a steaming mug of coffee James placed by his son's porridge.

"Is the man who spent the wee hours of the morning watching 'The Vampire Diaries' lecturing us about regular sleep schedules?" The sardonic barb was accompanied by Lily's grinning face, her fiery hair slicked back into a neat low ponytail, her green scrubs setting off bright eyes. She, unlike James, who was shuffling, disheveled, around in a bathrobe and slippers, looked fresh and ready for the day.

" _ What _ ?!" Harry and Sirius chorused together, staring at a rather pink-faced James.

"It's a decent drama full of beautiful people," he said gruffly. Lily laughed and kissed James' cheek, and he looked appeased. 

"And this is rich coming from the devourer of Nora Roberts novels," James complained to Sirius. 

Sirius looked completely unabashed. "They're a good way to de-stress," he said unconderedly. "If we're done taunting Prongs, I should probably jet." He drained the last of his coffee, kissed Lily on the cheek, then smacked James' arse, who jumped with a yelp. Sirius snickered. " _ Now _ I can leave." He called a "see you later," to Harry, then walked across the Potters' yard to his own bungalow. A few minutes later, he was zooming towards the school on his huge black motorbike.

 

Now Sirius stood in his classroom, his stomach filled with excited start-of-the-year butterflies. He'd already gone to the requisite staff meeting, headed by Dumbledore, who gave his usual speech, similar to the one he would address to the students before the first class: urging them to go into the year with a positive attitude, teach to the best of their ability, and take care of their students. As always, Sirius had glared at Snape at this part. Snape never seemed positive, and he knew his subject, but the care he gave to students was relegated to his personal favorites, the weasley little brown-nosers.

The meeting was fine otherwise, and even though it put Sirius in close quarters with Snape, it reminded him why he had taken the job: Sirius loved being around the students, loved helping to coax their ideas and emotions onto canvas and paper, seeing them blossom and grow up and become real  _ people _ over the course of high school.

Of course, this year was a little bittersweet for Sirius, as Harry and his best mates Ron and Hermione were graduating this year---Sirius had only been working at Hogwarts High for six years, and had eagerly anticipated Harry's arrival into his classroom for the past two years he had still been in middle school. Of course, some of Sirius' other favorites (aka Harry's other friends) like Luna and Ginny would still be around, but in another year they would be gone too. Sirius would still have fun teaching students, making messes, annoying Snape, joking with Hagrid---he would still love his job, essentially. But he couldn't help but feel a little melancholy, a little like some of the magic of working at the school would leave with his godson. 

Sirius shook his head quickly, dispelling the negative thoughts. The kids would be here in half an hour, and while he technically could skip the student assembly, Sirius hurried to finish the last of his art room prep, looking forward to Dumbledore's address to the students. It was similar every year, but it was a good reminder, and comforting---the last thought reminded Sirius how  _ old _ he was getting. He shuddered. Hopefully, this year's batch of freshmen would distract him from his dreaded goodbye with Harry, and keep him energized. After all, an occasional disruption to the normal routine, however comforting, was healthy. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was pretty short, so I'm posting another one right away! :)

Harry felt slightly more awake by the time he, Ron, and Hermione got to school; he was at least more alert than Ron, who crabbily shut Hermione down every time she tried to talk about their classes as they all rode together towards Hogwarts. Harry eventually got Ron talking about their upcoming rugby classes when his and Hermione's started increasing in intensity.

They were early enough that parking wasn't an issue, and as they walked near the school's entrance ran into Neville, who had extracted himself from his grandmother's car after what seemed like a battle of wills (Harry could hear Augusta Longbottom shouting advice at her grandson's back as they walked away, causing Neville's ears to turn pink.)

As they finally entered the school building, they heard a muffled  _ thump _ from behind them; they turned around; Neville had tried to catch the slowly-closing door, but had only managed to slam against the glass as it latched. Harry and Ron laughed, but Hermione rushed forward to open the door for Neville. He smiled weakly. "Great start to senior year, huh?"

"Well, if it happens every year, then it's more of a tradition, innit? So it's like good luck!" Ron said, only slightly sarcastically. Hermione went to his side so she could elbow him in the ribs. He yelped. " _ Ow! _ What was that for? I was being serious!" Before Hermione could retort, Harry cut in swiftly, "'Mione, we're going to be late to the assembly," which moved the group, now with Neville, along to the auditorium. 

At the double doors to the auditorium, Ginny and Luna were lounging against the wall while a slow but steady stream of students trickled through the doors. They greeted the foursome, and joined the group in the long process of getting seats amongst all the other students. Harry ended up walking with Ginny. 

"How's it feel being a crotchety old senior, Potter?" Ginny teased, gently shoulder-checking Harry as they walked. 

Harry huffed a laugh, suddenly feeling a ball of tension he hadn't been aware of unravel in his stomach. He and Ginny had been polite since their breakup weeks before, both mutually agreeing that it was nothing more than a summer fling, but Harry had still been nervous that he and Ginny wouldn't be able to talk and joke around as naturally as they had in the past. 

Harry glanced at the others at one point, feeling an unexpected wave of nostalgia as he let the smells and sounds of the new year sink in: Luna was talking very seriously to Ron and Hermione (probably about the trip to Point Pleasant she and her father had taken over the summer; Luna had kept Harry updated via text on prospective Mothman sightings); Ron looked extremely amused, and Hermione's face was carefully blank, though Harry could see her eyebrow twitching. Neville was also part of Luna's audience; he looked confused.

When they finally entered the auditorium, Harry nodded towards one of the emptier back rows closest to them, and they all filed in. They had no sooner settled into their seats when a somewhat unexpected voice spoke from behind them. 

"Well, looks like we've got the whole loser crew all in one row," Pansy Parkinson sneered as she drew level with their row. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle guffawed, looking especially large and looming behind Pansy's petite figure. Harry saw Hermione scowl, Ron tighten his hands into fists, and Ginny's jaw clench; Neville looked worried and Luna only vaguely interested, but Harry felt a bit thrown off; why was Pansy leading Crabbe and Goyle? Where was Malfoy?

"Can't wait to get out of this dump. I've already been accepted at my mother's alma mater---we're a legacy," Pansy said smugly.

"Oh yes, I suppose the nice new Parkinson wing of the library bought you a reserve spot, did it?" Hermione snapped. You didn't have to know Hermione very well to guess that applying to universities had her on edge.

Despite Hermione's barb, Pansy focused her gaze on Harry, staring poisonous daggers at him, almost accusingly. Harry opened his mouth, ready to ask Pansy what her problem was, when another voice surprised the group.

"Are we all getting along here, kids?"

Sirius was standing behind Pansy and her new cronies, arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked suspiciously. 

Pansy soured visibly, and crossed her own arms defensively. 

"We're fine . . . Mr. Black."

"Then you and your little friends should find seats before the headmaster takes the stage," Sirius said breezily, his face still a warning.

Pansy, with one scathing look at Hermione, turned and walked down the aisle, Crabbe and Goyle slouching after her. Sirius followed their progress with a watchful eye, then turned to the group with a grin. "All right, then?"

"Better now," Harry grinned at his godfather, nodding his thanks.

"I was telling everyone about the resurgence of hobgoblins across the country," Luna said gravely. "They can do real damage to your home, so make sure you put bowls of vinegar in every room."

"Vinegar, you say?" Sirius' grin got wider. Hermione made an irritated noise, but Ron sniggered and Luna, encouraged by Sirius' interest, started giving statistics on hobgoblin attacks.

Ginny, who was on Harry's left, nudged him. "Who's that?" She pointed to the back wall of the auditorium where the staff could watch the assembly if they desired. It wasn't hard to see who Ginny was asking about; there was just one face amongst the teachers Harry didn't know, by sight at least: a pale, thin man about his parents' age, with light brown hair and a worn but soft-looking cardigan. He was talking with Senora Sinistra. 

Harry frowned. "I don't know." He scanned the line of staff again, which was comprised of most of those employed at school. "I only see one or two teachers missing. Maybe he's a substitute?"

"What're you all looking at?" Sirius leaned over Harry's and Ginny's chairs. 

"That tall man with the brown hair. Is he a new teacher?" Harry subtly pointed out the man in question. 

"Who?" Hermione asked, leaning towards them. Harry nodded towards the man, and Hermione furrowed her brow, then shook her head. Sirius also frowned, staring at the man. "He wasn't at the staff meeting, and even Filch and Pince show up to those, though janitors and librarians aren't usually invited to those."

"That's the Dumbledore difference," Ginny joked. 

As if on cue, Luna said, "Oh look, it's Dumbledore," and Sirius bade goodbye to the group and joined Hagrid near the back wall as everyone turned their attention to the headmaster. 

Harry watched as Sirius, none-too-subtly, pointed out the mystery staff member to Hagrid, who looked and then shrugged his massive shoulders. Sirius shrugged in return, and turned to face the stage. Harry turned around as well, and saw that Dumbledore was crossing the stage.

It was a mark of Dumbledore's legacy, and the student's respect for and awe of him that the crowd fell almost completely silent once he was standing at the podium. Dumbledore rewarded this deference with a beaming smile. 

"Welcome!" he began cheerfully, "to the new class of Hogwarts High School! To old students and staff, welcome back! He smiled at the crowd, looking at each section in turn. "I am delighted to start another year at Hogwarts and hope you are all ready to learn and make lifelong connections and friendships. I hope you show our wonderful teachers and staff the respect the deserve, and turn to them whenever you are in need. Oh! I have not introduced myself," Dumbledore directed his smile at the front section, where most of the freshmen were sitting. "I am your headmaster, Albus Dumbledore; you may refer to me as Headmaster or Professor Dumbledore. Students have also called me Rumbly Dumbly and Dumble-poo, creative nicknames I highly encourage. Harry, Ron, and Ginny snickered. As if anyone but the graduated Weasley twins would have the guts to address their headmaster as such to his face. "At the back," Dumbledore continued, directing their attention to the rear of the auditorium, "You will see your Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. Show us where you are, dear Minerva!" The students turned as a whole to see McGonagall raise her hand and give a brisk nod. 

Dumbledore went on. "Our head custodian, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind students that those of you who have cell phones are not allowed to use them in school, even in the hallways and lunchroom, and he will confiscate those seen in use. Additionally, the staff lounge  _ is off limits to all non-staff _ . However, I have a feeling that the number of break-ins will see a dramatic decrease this year." Dumbledore's amusement was betrayed only by a twitch of his long white beard, and the older students and most of the freshmen laughed at the reference to the Weasley twins. The staff room was just a  _ room _ , there was no reason to break in except to cause mayhem and say you did it (which were exactly Fred's and George's motives). 

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the giggles stopped. "Now. I would be remiss if I impeded you and your teachers from starting the wonderful lessons in store, so please---go and learn, be safe, enjoy yourselves, and please be kind to each other." He beamed. "Dismissed!"

The students rose en masse, and a dull roar of conversation bubbled up as the school year officially began. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEY MEET.

Sirius had the seniors for his first class, which made for an easy start of the day; he announced that the syllabus was available online, wrote the dates their major projects were due on the board, and then gave them free reign of the art room. They all knew what they were doing by now, so he just strolled between tables to talk to each student in turn, sometimes even conversing about the class. The lighthearted conversations mixed with the intense silence of the kids who were determined to start a grand piece made Sirius grin; he felt lighter and more energetic just being around the students, not even realizing how ho-hum he had felt before. His grin grew even wider as he approached Harry, Ron, and Hermione's table; he knew the three took Art mostly for Sirius, as none of them were especially naturally gifted artists, but he was grateful for it. Hermione looked up as soon as he approached, and immediately opened with, "Sirius, I found out who that new staff member is."

"Yeah? Well, who is he?" Sirius leaned against the wall, his hands in his jean pockets.

"Well, I made a quick stop at the library after the assembly---"

" _ That's _ where you went---"

"You  would make time to go to the  _ library _ \---"

"--- _ and _ he was there," Hermione ignored Harry and Ron. "He's a new librarian. His name is Lupin."

"Lupin, eh?" Sirius considered. "Wonder why he wasn't at the staff meeting."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure, but he did say that he was somewhat of a last minute hire. He seemed very grateful to Dumbledore for hiring him."

"Does this mean Pince is gone?" Ron asked hopefully. "I hate having her hovering around us when we're---well, when  _ Hermione's _ trying to study." 

Hermione smirked slightly. "No, she's staying, but I think she's going to be out of the way, working on reorganizing the catalog. Mr. Lupin and I discussed the catalog, it really is very outdated and needs to be modernized---"

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically as Hermione continued, then got up, pulled a huge hunk of clay from the supply cupboard, and dropped it on the table in front of Hermione with an overly loud  _ thump _ . "Here," Ron interrupted Hermione loudly, "put your feelings into art. Now," he turned to Harry with a serious expression, Sirius sniggering and Hermione looking sour. "How the hell are we going to win the rugby tournament this year?"

 

After a class full of nervous-looking freshmen, Sirius used his free period to visit the library. Though he technically didn't need more art textbooks for his junior class until tomorrow at the least, Sirius was curious about the new hire; the school wasn't terribly large, making the staff rather in each other's pockets, though not unpleasantly so (with one notable exception). He wondered if the new librarian would mesh, or if he would continually haunt the library with Pince.

Sirius poked his head cautiously inside the school library; it seemed Hermione was right, and that old crone Pince wasn't guarding the main desk as usual. (Sirius enjoyed reading, but he didn't feel particularly compelled to check out books when the librarian acted as though he were a witless treasure hunter coming to take her dragon hoard out from under her.) No, instead of Pince, Lupin was sitting behind the desk, absorbed in (what else) a book.

From here, Lupin looked to be about a decade older than Sirius, thin and pale, with a heavy cardigan over a neatly pressed button-up shirt. His light brown hair, streaked with silver, fell from his bowed head, and the librarian absently pushed it back before turning a page. 

Sirius stepped forward, trying to make some noise so as not to startle the other man. "Afternoon."

Lupin looked up. "Hello," he greeted Sirius in a warm, quiet voice, carefully placing a slip of paper in his book before setting it down and standing up. 

Sirius reached the desk and stuck out his hand. "Must've missed you at the staff meeting this morning. I'm Sirius Black, I teach art." 

Lupin shook his hand with a cool yet firm grip. "Remus Lupin. I'm sorry to have missed meeting everyone; I got held up." 

Closer up, Sirius realized that Lupin was actually closer to his own age, yet his severely pale skin, silver hairs, and crow's feet added years he didn't have. He also couldn't help that Lupin's clothes, while neat and clean, were rather well-worn and faded. His eyes, however, were sharp and bright, belying his true age. 

Sirius glanced at the book Lupin had been reading.  _ Middlesex _ . "Good book?" he asked, pushing back an automatic snigger at the "sex" in the title.

Lupin nodded, a small smile lifting a corner of his mouth. "So far, yes. The author is excellent. I'm afraid I'll have to work on not getting too absorbed and fail to help patrons, like I almost did with you."

Sirius grinned easily. "Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. You seem polite, which is far, far nicer than anything I could say about old Pincey." 

Lupin looked rather surprised for a moment, then smiled, quickly, as if he hadn't expected Sirius' comment. "Ms. Pince? Yes, I suppose she is rather . . . passionate about her job."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, leaning on the counter. "That's one word for it. Again, you're very polite."

That odd, quick, surprised smile again. Sirius wasn't sure if this guy was just socially awkward or if he wasn't used to people with a sense of humor. Then again, Sirius was hilarious, not always a trait expected from the extraordinarily handsome (as Sirius was). 

"Well, I feel lucky I get to be paid to do what I love. Though, right now I suppose I'm not doing a very good job of it," Lupin frowned. "I haven't even asked, do you need help finding anything?" 

Sirius chuckled. "No, I'm good. I was going to pick up books for my class after lunch, but I've got the whole period. You're right, though, about doing a job you love; I feel the same way. Like, I get to hang out with all these excited, talented kids, teach them how to express their feelings and ideas through paint and clay, and then I get inspired to work on my own stuff. It's fantastic." 

Lupin looked at Sirius thoughtfully. "That's very good to hear. I had heard Hogwarts had very talented, dedicated teachers. I'm glad that seems to be true."

Sirius was pleased. Finally, someone was recognizing his talent. "Ayup, we're the best of the best, especially Dumbledore. Great headmaster---great man, actually."

Lupin nodded. "Yes, I've heard about his accolades. And he's also been very kind to me, which I deeply appreciate." 

Interesting. "Yeah, Dumbledore's pretty sharp too, and I like the way he runs this school . . . though, fair warning, I think you'll soon find that some teachers are much better than others." He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly. 

Another quick, quirk of a smile, and Lupin's face suddenly looked more animated. "Oh? Can you help me figure out which are which?" 

Sirius barked out a laugh. So the librarian was a snarky one after all. "My dear Lupin, I am exactly the right man for that job." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book 'Middlesex' is by Jeffery Eugenides. It really is very good, and Eugenides wrote one of my all-time favorite novels, 'The Virgin Suicides.'


	4. Chapter 4

On Wednesday as soon as he got home Harry threw his school bag and rugby bag in the general vicinity of the hallway closet, and tramped to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, scowled at the interior, then slammed it shut. 

"Everything alright?"

Harry started slightly, and turned to see his mother sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, eyebrows raised over her mug, a pen in the other hand. She had her laptop and small stacks of patient files out, clearly in the middle of some work. Harry relaxed and slumped against the fridge. "Sorry. S'just practice stuff."

Lily took a sip of her tea then set her pen and mug down. "What, rugby practice didn't go well?"

"No, it's just—" Harry sighed frustratedly. He felt like he had discussed this with numerous people numerous times, yet the problem never seemed to go away, and he was getting sick of it. 

"That Malfoy boy?"

Harry nodded, slightly relieved he didn't have to voice it aloud.

Lily frowned. "What did he do now? I thought Coach Hooch had threatened to kick him off if he didn't shape up for senior year."

"She did, but he just---I'm not sure how to describe it." Harry ran a hand through his hair, and missed the way his mother smiled at the gesture. "He doesn't insult me---doesn't insult anyone outright anymore, I think he's realized he actually likes the game too much to risk giving it up, but it's the third practice where he's always  _ glaring _ , and being weirdly intense even when we're not near a game, he barely speaks, and, I dunno . . . Hermione said he's being passive aggressive."

"That sounds about right." Lily looked thoughtfully at her son, who was absentmindedly rearranging the refridgerator magnets. "Is Ron getting that feeling too?"

Harry glanced at Lily, almost guiltily. "I haven't really . . . talked about that with him. I mean, we both hate him--- _ dislike _ him," he hastily amended when his mother made a sour face at the word, "but I think Ron's more bothered by the way Malfoy normally insults us, not this . . . whatever he's doing. It's like . . . Ron's my best mate, but I'm not sure if he . . . well," Harry hesitated.

"Perhaps he wouldn't pick up on Malfoy's, ah, passive aggressive strategies?" Lily supplied gently.

"Yeah," Harry looked at Lily again, relieved. 

"But you talked with Hermione about Malfoy? Which is fine," Lily added, when Harry looked slightly guilty again. "Hermione's more perceptive of subtle signs, whereas Ron reads . . . broader signals." 

"And I'm somewhere in between," Harry guessed. He still felt slightly agitated. He arranged some of the stray alphabet magnets the Potters owned to spell H J P, under a past contribution (P A D F U T). 

Lily smiled at her son. "It's a good place to be." She glanced at the kitchen clock. "Are you staying for dinner, or going to Ron's?" 

Harry shook his head. "I'll be here." 

"Great!" Lily closed her laptop and got up. "Why don't you help me make dinner. Then we'll eat with your father and Sirius." 

Harry nodded, and as he went to the sink to wash his hands, Lily suddenly pulled him into a hug. Harry was surprised, but returned the hug. She smelled faintly of perfume and tea, and it reminded him of home; he felt calmer. He pulled away. "Thanks, Mum." 

"Don't mention it." She ruffled his hair and they started to wash up.

 

Harry checked his phone under the table and found he had missed a text from Ginny. He read it, and smirked. 

"What are you smiling about under there?" Sirius asked, his mouth full of lasagna. 

Harry looked up. "Ginny texted me a couple hours ago. She and Hermione were going to have a girl's night, but when she went to the school to pick up Hermione she was still talking to the new librarian, and apparently she took forever." 

"Hah, maybe Hermione has a crush on him," Sirius said lightly. 

"Who is this guy?" James reached gracelessly across the table for the salad bowl and Lily sighed in a put-upon way and handed it to him.

"The new librarian. I met him a couple days ago." Sirius offered.

"Does that mean Pincey's finally gone?" 

"Is she still  _ there _ ?" Lily asked incredulously. "She must be ancient, I remember her from my time at Hogwarts!"

Sirius shook his head mournfully. "Oh, she's still kicking; I think she's fueled by spite."

Harry added, "I don't think she'll leave unless Dumbledore kicks her out ("Which he won't," Sirius interjected, "He won't even kick Snape out, I asked,")---or the entire library is replaced by computers and e-readers."

"Shame," James sighed, taking a deep swig of his wine. 

"But Pince  _ is _ out of the way now, buried in the card catalog, so the library doesn't feel quite like the forbidding hellscape it once was," said Sirius. "I can enter without having to answer riddles and defeat several tiers of monsters." 

Harry and James laughed while Lily shook her head with a rueful smile. "Have you met the new librarian, Harry?" she asked.

Harry ripped apart a bread roll and stuffed half of it into his mouth. "No," he said around the bread. "But Hermione keeps talking about him," He swallowed. "She loves him, apparently he reads as much as she does. I wish she'd tone it down, Ron's getting all sulky."  

"I don't think I've seen Lupin in the staff lounge  _ once _ ," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Guy needs to get out more. It doesn't look like he's seen the sun in years." 

"Invite him to lunch with you and Hagrid," Lily suggested. "Hagrid gets along with everyone, it'll put him at ease."

"Yeah, going out's a good idea," Sirius said. "And I guess I don't blame Lupin for not hanging out in the staff room, if Lockhart corners me about my eating habits  _ one more time _ , I swear to God . . . "

Harry groaned. "I  _ hate _ Lockhart, he's the  _ worst _ ."

James and Sirius laughed loudly, but Lily frowned. "He's still a teacher, Harry, you should—"

"No, Lily," Sirius interrupted. "Seriously, he is the  _ worst _ . He's got all the brains of a comatose sheep, and acts like he's God's gift to teaching. He's a fucking health teacher, not a nuclear physicist, it's really not that impressive." 

Harry and James laughed, and Lily said, "Language!" but only halfheartedly, then she laughed too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing the Lily-Harry scene, actually the whole chapter. I love domestic fluff :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Couple things:  
> -THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS AND KUDOS <3 it literally makes me grin like an idiot every time I see someone took the time to comment; it really keeps inspiring me to write more!!  
> -As I've been updating this, I've realized that getting these two crazy kids together is not going to be an expedited process, so strap in for a seriously long, slow-burn fic! O: I have a general idea of where the story is going, though, so updates should be fairly consistent. I'm hoping to get a new chapter up nearly every day, maybe every other day if they're longer.
> 
> Again, I'm blown away by the attention my little fic's been getting; I didn't have any expectations at all, and you guys are really making me feel special. *hugs* Happy reading!

Sirius wandered over to the library about halfway through his free period on Friday after he had finished the rest of his teaching prep for the day. When he got to the library, Lupin was sitting at the desk just as he had been on Monday, head bowed over a book. This time when Sirius walked in, however, Lupin heard him and looked up.

"Good afternoon," he smiled and marked his place.

"Afternoon!" Sirius bounced up to the desk, and spotted Lupin's book. "Wow, you finish that  _ Middlesex _ one already?"

Lupin looked surprised, then pleased. "Yes, in fact I did. I spend a lot of my days reading."

"What's this one, then?" Sirius picked up the book and examined it; the title read  _ Never Let Me Go _ . 

"It's . . . well, the plot is a bit difficult to summarize, but it's essentially about some children at a boarding school and what becomes of their lives. It's an old favorite of mine."

"Interesting," Sirius said, examining the back cover. It wasn't quite in his genre, but didn't look bad. "I usually prefer fantasy and science fiction myself."

"Well, this might still be for you, then," Lupin said, somewhat mysteriously. "But I don't want to give away anything."

Sirius looked up at him and grinned. "All right then, you've got my interest." He put the book put on the desk. "Do you have any plans for lunch?"

Lupin looked slightly puzzled. "Ah, besides eating? Not really, no."

"Excellent!" Sirius beamed. "You can come along with me and Hagrid---he's the shop teacher here---we were planning to walk to the sandwich shop 'round the corner." 

"Oh! Well, thank you." Lupin seemed to consider something before saying, "It's not a long walk?"

"To the shop? Not more than a couple blocks." 

Lupin nodded carefully. "Then yes, I'd like to come. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course! Why don't you meet us by the main entrance in about 20 minutes?"

Lupin smiled and nodded again, and Sirius smiled back.

 

As Lily had predicted, Hagrid, with his easygoing and kind nature, got along swimmingly with Lupin. The shop teacher knew Sirius well enough to cut him off when he got too manic and talkative, and he asked Lupin questions about himself, which were answered politely if rather in a taciturn way. Lupin redirected the queries so effortlessly, and after answering so little, that it made Sirius mad with curiosity. 

By the time they got to the sandwich shop, however, Sirius was more distracted by Lupin's rather ragged breathing, coughing, and shivering, the latter despite his heavy cardigan, scarf, and jacket. After the third coughing fit, as they were waiting in line to order, Hagrid concernedly asked him if he was alright, and raised a hand in case he needed a pounding on the back.

"No---no, I'm alright," Lupin said hastily, letting out another dry cough. "I just need some water. I've been getting over a cold, it's fine."

"Hmm, maybe you should get some soup as well," Sirius advised, looking at the options on the menu hanging over their heads.

"I don't need any; I'll probably just get the ah, what was it? The No. 6," Lupin said absently, pulling his wallet out.

"What, the glorified cheese sandwich? That's barely a meal for a toddler," Sirius said, scandalized. "If you're sick then you need something more substanstial. Here, I'm next anyway, I'll get your meal, as a welcome-to-Hogwarts treat."

Lupin flushed visibly. "N-no, please, you don't have to, I don't need—"

Sirius flapped a hand dismissively. "Yeah, I know I don't have to, but I will. You've been a vast improvement over Pince, and you deserve a prize for working so closely to her without committing grievous harm to her or yourself."

Lupin opened his mouth to protest some more, but had the wind knocked out of him when Hagrid clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Ah, Remus, you haven' been here long, so yeh don' know how rare it is fer Sirius to actually pay for somethin'; the number o' beers this dog has flirted outta bartenders, I tell yeh . . . "

Sirius laughed. "Don't fill Remus' head with lies; I never  _ intentionally _ tried to get a free drink. I can't help that I'm naturally charismatic and charming." 

Hagrid guffawed, and with Lupin seemingly speechless and not able to protest more, Sirius ordered their food. 

 

Between their orders (and the mere presence of Hagrid), the trio needed two tables pushed together to hold all their food (Sirius had two sandwiches and chips; Lupin two sandwiches, soup, and chips; and Hagrid four sandwiches). Lupin insisted on at least paying for drinks, coming back from the counter with coffee and tea and such a stern look on his face that Sirius merely accepted his coffee with a graceful, "Thank you." 

Despite eating more slowly and neatly than him and Hagrid, Sirius noticed that Lupin seemed hungry, as he methodically ate everything in front of him, washed down with tea (which helped stop his coughing completely). Sirius wondered why on earth he had been planning on eating practically nothing when he had an appetite for so much more. 

Conversation was relaxed and easy; Hagrid asked about Sirius' classes and how Harry was doing, and then regaled them with multiple tales of near-accidents that occurred in his class and his most frustrating students ("There's no way Crabbe an' Goyle are graduatin' this year, I'd bet my salary on it. Can't follow simple directions ter save their lives.").

Sirius eventually steered the conversation back to Lupin, who had been listening, but fairly quiet. "So where did you work before Hogwarts, Remus?"

Lupin finished his bite of sandwich slowly, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Mostly odd jobs." 

Sirius nodded. His immediate instinct was to push Lupin for a better answer, but something told him to hold back. "Other librarian posts?"

Lupin nodded carefully, deliberately. "Yes. Also I've worked in bookstores, as a tutor, some retail jobs and the like."

"Whatever yeh gotta do, eh?" Hagrid said, and Lupin smiled, but somewhat sadly. 

"Hm, I'm sensing a theme here, something . . .  _ book _ related?" Sirius leaned toward Lupin, eyebrow cocked exaggeratedly. 

It worked; Lupin gave a small chuckle. "Yes, I tend to gravitate towards jobs that let me, at the very least, be around books, even if I can't spend my time reading them."

"Have yeh ever thought about teachin'?" Hagrid asked. 

"Yeah, talking about books must only be second to actually reading them," Sirius added. He could definitely see Lupin as a teacher; the thoughtful speaking, the inviting manner, the interest in the subject. 

Lupin's smile was still tinged with melancholy for some reason. "I'm afraid that would require more schooling, which would be difficult for a number of reasons." 

A sandwich shop in the middle of the day didn't seem like the time to open that can of worms, so Sirius let it go (but didn't forget it). He nodded. "Maybe someday, eh?" Lupin nodded as well, looking glad for the reprieve.

"What about you, Sirius?" Lupin turned the question back on him. "What did you do before Hogwarts?"

Sirius shrugged. "I did some odd jobs like you, sold some art. But my longest gig was at a mechanic's." 

Lupin looked surprised. "Really?"

"What, you surprised an  _ artiste _ knows how to do something practical?" Sirius laughed. 

"Sirius built his motorbike himself," Hagrid said. "An' helped me custom-build me own." 

"You both ride motorcycles?" 

"Not many cars that'd fit me," Hagrid said unapologetically. "An' Sirius just thinks it looks cool."

"It  _ does _ . It fits my aesthetic."

Lupin laughed softly. "I would have to agree there. You've got the hair and the leather jacket; now you just need aviators and a good soundtrack." 

Sirius grinned and shook out his mane of ebony, shoulder-length hair. "Thank God Dumbledore doesn't care what we wear, otherwise I might actually have to wear a  _ tie _ and look  _ professional _ ." 

The group talked some more about their first week at school, and before long they had finished eating and had to head back before fourth period. When Lupin split up from Sirius and Hagrid and headed towards the library, Sirius found himself feeling oddly disappointed that the lunch hour had gone by so quickly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Remus' book addiction to mention one of my other all-time favorite novels, "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro. I love love love this book!
> 
> Also, keep an eye on the books Remus reads; there's going to be somewhat of a pattern in the themes in what he reads. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

By far Sirius' favorite room in Grimmauld Place was what he had named, for lack of a better term, his den—it was a large corner room in the eastern wing on the second floor, with the north and eastern walls mostly made up of huge windows. The southern wall was dominated by a large, luxurious leather couch, covered in red and gold pillows and throw blankets. The couch was  _ just _ short enough that the door could be opened fully, but oversized enough that two people could lie comfortably next to each other (if rather cozily). 

What made the room special, though, was the main focus of the space: against the western wall was a vintage but impeccably restored record player, flanked by two hip-high speakers, and surrounded by bookshelves crammed with vinyl records. Brand new and decades old records sat side by side, representing over fifty years of music. Sirius wasn't completely out of touch; he had his favorite music on his phone, and more on his computer, but there was no question that his preferred method of listening to music was to lie on the couch, either soaking in the sun streaming through the windows or gazing at the starry sky, a strong drink in his hand. This was just how Sirius was spending the first Friday night of the new school semester: lounging on the couch, whiskey in one hand, an old Leonard Cohen record playing in the dim room. And he was totally fine with that. Sirius spent a lot of his free time unwinding, listening to his favorite records. On just about any occasion, given any circumstance, Sirius could be found in his den—if he wasn't in his studio, and that's if he was at home at all.

It wasn't that Sirius couldn't stand being alone; he appreciated time to himself now and again. He just didn't see as much appeal in activity—even just relaxing and listening music—when there wasn't someone to share it with.

So, maybe he  _ did _ mind spending time alone, Sirius admitted to himself, rolling his cool glass of whiskey against his forehead. But that's what the Potters were for; Sirius treated their home as his own (much better, actually; Sirius had gutted entire rooms in Grimmauld Place after his batshit insane mother had died, and he would never do that to the Potter household). And yet . . . 

. . . And yet, as Hary's final year at Hogwarts and at home had started to become a reality over the summer, Sirius had started resenting every moment spent in big, empty house more and more, and had even crashed in the Potter's guest room rather than cross the street to his own fucking bedroom. 

"Pathetic," Sirius murmured to himself, taking a sip of his drink as Leonard Cohen softly crooned the last line of the first song on the record. 

_Oh like a bird on a wire_ _  
__Like a drunk in a midnight choir_ _  
___I have tried in my way to be free

The song faded as Sirius contemplated the ceiling moodily. Not that he would ever admit it, but Sirius knew he had always been prone to mood swings, but had believed that those had been left behind with his tumultuous adolescence and young adult years. Recently, however, unexpected bouts of melancholy hit him at random times; like when Sirius had seen an article online that was celebrating the 25th anniversary of  _ Goodfellas _ , he had been thrown into shock for a full minute. Sirius had vivid memories of dragging James to the theater what seemed like dozens of times to see the movie, always completely in awe of the badassery of the gangsters. He'd been seventeen years old, and now suddenly that was 25 years ago? Or just the other week, Sirius had put on a dress shirt that had lived in his closet for years and realized it didn't fit anymore. He'd grown irrationally enraged, swearing violently at the shirt (which ended up in the trash after he'd ripped it in half in a dramatic fashion), all the while confused and even a little sad because he didn't know why he was so upset. 

_I have changed my name so often_ _  
__I've lost my wife and children_ _  
__But I have many friends_ _  
___And some of them are with me

Sirius sighed and took a large gulp of his whiskey. Music couldn't cure all ills, it seemed. He wondered if this was something he should talk about with James, but quickly dismissed the thought. Sirius' half-formed, vague problems seemed like nothing more than a cliched midlife crisis and he wouldn't expect James, with his wonderful wife and son, fulfilling career, and happy childhood to understand. The hypocrisy of Sirius disparaging James' empathy because of a desirable career and a supportive network when Sirius had both (if not the happy childhood) registered in his brain, but he crabbily waved it away. The point was, Sirius didn't really know what he needed, or even what he wanted, so why dwell on it? He had been happy for so long with the Potters as his family, with his art and his job, with enjoying life for what it was. What could make him happier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These songs are from an early Leonard Cohen album, "Songs From a Room." It's become one of the soundtracks I listen to as I write this fic, I recommend it.


	7. Chapter 7

The second week of the semester was when teachers really started putting students' noses to the grindstone (except for McGonagall and Snape, who were always strict), and it was not much different for Sirius. His theory classes now took more prep time, and grading took longer for those sections, but the other periods still simply boiled down to, "Try to imitate this final piece using certain mediums and your own style," and ended with a one-on-one conversation with the student on how it turned out. The gloom of the weekend melted away like mist when Sirius was in the classroom; talking with the students, he felt in his element, useful—happy. During the days he could just let his mind skim over gloomy topics like skipping rocks over water.

Sirius was busy enough writing lesson plans (i.e., he hadn't made the time to write them the week before) that he only saw Lupin a handful of times that week whenever he had a spare half hour. On Friday, however, dreading a repeat of his depressing evening the week before, Sirius made a point to go straight to the library just a few minutes after his last class ended to see if Lupin wanted to get some drinks.

Harry and Ron had rugby practice on Fridays, so Sirius wasn't shocked to see Hermione concentratedly working at a table when he got to the library; Sirius was pretty sure they carpooled, so it made sense Hermione would use the time practically. Sirius was secretly relieved that Hermione was there, because it helped offset the small niggle of worry that had started worming into Sirius' thoughts; that maybe Lupin was sick of his stupid face, that Sirius was putting effort in a friendship with a man who had so far met his advances with friendly but very polite responses. Sirius finally was able to brush this concern off by telling himself that he was going to chat with Hermione as well. 

First, however, he might as well say hi to Lupin.

Sirius semi-casually strolled over to the Arts section where the librarian was shelving books, trying to put on a nonchalant air.  _ Jesus, when did I start overthinking about making friends so much? This was much easier when I was in my twenties. _ His frustration melted away as soon as Lupin turned to see who was walking towards him and greeted Sirius with a genuine smile and a, "Hello, Sirius." 

"Afternoon!" Sirius chirped, wincing slightly at how loud he sounded to his own ears. "How's your day been?"

Lupin carefully shelved another book. "Slow. Most of my social interaction has been limited to the occasional question and Hermione."

"I thought I saw her," Sirius commented, sparing a glance at the girl in question. Her head was still bent over a textbook and a notebook, having not noticed Sirius' entrance. "You guys get along?"

"Oh yes," Lupin nodded firmly as he moved closer to Sirius to slide several books onto their correct shelf. Sirius shifted out of the way slightly out of courtesy, but not far enough that Lupin's heavy cardigan-covered arm didn't brush Sirius' own bare forearm, tickling him slightly. "She's quite the voracious reader. It's nice to give recommendations again."

"Again?" Lupin moved back to the cart.

"I could never help pointing out my favorite books to customers when I've worked in bookstores." Lupin gave Sirius a small smile before picking up several more volumes from the cart. 

"Seems like you," Sirius teased. He took a breath, then added, "You got any big Friday night plans?"

Lupin started shaking his head, then stopped. "Actually, I'm having dinner at an old friend's house."

Sirius smothered the small spark of disappointment. "Sounds fun."

"What about you?" Lupin had finished one side of the cart, and flipped it around so he could start working on the books on the other side. 

"Me? Probably just grading, working on some projects, maybe grabbing some drinks," Sirius shrugged. "The typical old-man schedule," he added, grimacing slightly at how true the joke rang.

Lupin chuckled. "We all have to grow up sometime."

"Yeah," Sirius said absently, sliding his fingers along one of the plastic-covered spines of the art books. "Listen," he said suddenly, speaking before he could lose his nerve. "Why don't we trade numbers? You know, in case I have a book-related emergency or something."

Lupin turned to face Sirius fully for the first time, looking surprised but smiling. "Oh? Well, I suppose I wouldn't want to leave you stranded in such a case."

"Great," Sirius grinned. He took out his phone, unlocked it and selected "contacts," then handed it to Lupin. The other man tapped out his number, then returned the phone to Sirius. Sirius took it and nodded his thanks. "I'll send you a text so you can get mine."

"Thank you."

"No problem," Sirius replied breezily, suddenly feeling much more at ease. He leaned back against the bookshelf. "So. What's your verdict on Hogwarts so far? The best place you've worked at, or the  _ best _ place you've worked at?

Lupin chuckled warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Well, the staff is very friendly so far, so that's a plus."

"Well, you're easy to be friendly to," Sirius said without thinking.  _ Fuck _ .

Lupin only laughed again. "Exactly what I mean. And practically speaking, Hogwarts isn't too far from where I live, and the headmaster has been very courteous and accommodating." Lupin snapped his jaw shut at the end of his sentence, though Sirius wasn't sure why. He pretended to notice nothing and instead asked, "Wait, you live in this area?"

"Yes, just a few miles away."

"Nice." There was a slightly awkward pause as Lupin continued his careful book shelving, and Sirius' mind drew a blank.

"Er, I think I'm going to go say hi to Hermione. Give her a break from studying." Sirius stood up straight, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets. 

"All right. Have a good weekend, Sirius."

"You too. Enjoy your dinner tonight," Sirius nodded at Lupin and strode over to Hermione's table.

"Hey, Hermione. Boys have practice?" He placed his hands on the table, leaning forward. 

"Yes, I'm just catching up on some homework. What were you talking to Mr. Lupin about?"

Sirius shrugged. "Invited him out for drinks. He shot me down. I'll recover someday."

Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I believe he's having dinner with the Longbottoms."

"Wait, seriously?" Sirius grimaced at his wording. "He didn't say he knew Neville."

"Well, he may not know Neville very well. And when would he have mentioned it?" she asked. 

"I invited him out to lunch with me and Hagrid today," Sirius said, idly running his thumbnail along the grain of the table. 

"That was nice of you," Hermione said.

"Lily suggested it, actually, and I'm glad she did. Lupin's a bit shy, he could use someone as charming and handsome as me as a friend." When Hermione rolled her eyes again, Sirius laughed and stood up straight again. "All right, I'll stop bothering you and leave you to your homework. I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Bye, Sirius."

Sirius waved and started to saunter back to the library entrance; he glanced at Lupin as he passed him, and met the librarian's eyes. Lupin smiled a little awkwardly, and Sirius grinned at him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry I've been lagging behind with updates! It's finals week for me, so it's been crazy stressful. I hope to get another couple chapters out this week, and hopefully by next Sunday I'll be back on schedule! :) Thank you for your patience, kudos, and comments!!

As Sirius was back in his art room, making sure the students' work was safely put away (a couple ambitious students had started some projects in earnest; he really was excited about it), Sirius thought about his drafty, empty house, and suddenly decided to text James for drinks. It was pretty much assured that Sirius could come over to the Potters whenever he liked, and vice versa, but since it was a weekend night he felt it polite to check.

He pulled out his phone and sent James a quick text:  _ Drinks with you and L when I get back? _

After it was sent, he double-checked his brand-new contact: Remus Lupin. Sirius composed a quick text:  _ GUESS WHO _ . He smirked and sent it to Lupin. Since the man was in the same building, Sirius would more often than not simply walk to the library if he wanted to talk to Lupin, but having his number would still be useful if they wanted to make other plans.

It was funny that Sirius found himself thinking like that; already planning for future get-togethers with the new librarian. Lupin was so quiet and mild (so opposite of Sirius, frankly) that it surprised him to have accepted and built a friendship so quickly. Lupin was smart, though, and witty, and very calming to be around, so . . . 

A buzz from his phone shook Sirius out of his wandering thoughts; James had replied.  _ Got home early, so come over whenever. Bring the nice scotch. _ Sirius rolled his eyes, just as another text came in: from Lupin.  _ I can't possibly imagine who this is. How on earth did you obtain this number? _ Sirius laughed aloud and quickly sent a snarky response ( _ I have skills you can't even dream of, librarian man _ ) before he stuffed his phone in his pocket and busied himself with getting ready to go home. 

 

"It seems like the kids are hardly around anymore," Sirius commented, leaning back against the couch with his second glass of scotch. Lily  _ hmm _ 'ed in agreement, nursing her own second glass. James sighed dramatically.

"What do you  _ expect _ , Padfoot; they're young, they're full of energy, and they have cars. We did the same exact thing at their age."

"Yeah, except they're all better behaved then we were," Sirius grinned. "They're focusing on school, well Hermione is at least, and Ron and Harry have rugby . . . not all of this relationship drama I'm used to from the other students." He paused. "Actually, I would've expected drama from Harry and Ginny's breakup, but they seem fine. It's weird."

"A bit, yeah," James agreed. "Besides all that fuss with the rugby girl a few years back, what was her name—?"

"Cho," Lily supplied.

"Yeah, Cho and Ginny are the only girls Harry's shown interest in. He's awfully picky."

"'Picky,' says the man who spent six years unsuccessfully chasing the same girl," Lily murmured into her glass. Sirius barked out a laugh and James looked affronted.

"Excuse me,  _ 'unsuccessfully' _ ? What are we now, roommates? I think I'd say I succeeded!" James wiggled his left hand, showing off the gold band. 

Lily inclined her head towards James, smiling. "I'll give you that one, love," She took a sip of scotch. "But do you know who's  _ really _ picky?" She looked meaningfully at Sirius, who rolled his back onto the couch and moaned melodramatically. 

" _ Lily _ , please, for God's sake not this again—" 

"Yeah, Sirius," James jumped on the bandwagon. "Who was the last person you were with? There was that girl you picked up at the bar—"

"And that nice bloke from the art museum," Lily added. "Whatever happened to him? That wasn't too long ago, I thought we were going to meet him."

"Ugh, Adam? That was  _ forever _ ago, Lily. He was so pretentious, I was too embarrassed to be seen with him. And he was so fussy." 

"Padfoot, m'boy," James adopted an air of an elder teaching a young student. "You've got to settle down eventually; find a nice, er, person, and grow old together! Have a kid! Or, you know, get a dog."

Sirius snorted. "Between Harry and the kids at school, I think I've satisfied my child-rearing instincts. Can we change the subject, please? And this conversation better not result in my dragged along to any double dates anytime soon!" He aimed this warning at Lily.

Lily held up her hands in surrender. "I wasn't planning on it! Don't worry Padfoot, your spinsterhood is safe," James laughed and Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Lily continued, "You don't need a partner to be happy, Sirius, we know that. It's all in good fun." She shoved his shoulder gently, and Sirius just grumbled and drank his scotch.

Respecting Sirius' wish and changing the subject, Lily asked, "How did lunch with the new staff member go?"

Sirius' face brightened. "Pretty well, I think. Poor bloke needs to get his head out of his books more, though, I think it's addling his brain; I had to shanghai him into getting a substantial meal. Man cannot live on books alone." Sirius deepened his voice and raised his glass to emphasize his last point, then chuckled at himself.

Lily frowned. "That's odd. Does he live alone?"

Sirius opened his mouth, then realize he couldn't answer the question. "You know, I haven't the faintest. I'd think so; he hasn't got a wedding band, has never mentioned a partner . . . I know he's having dinner with the Longbottoms tonight. Apparently they're old friends of his. I should text him tomorrow, ask him how it went." 

" _ Text _ him?" James asked. "You have his number?"

Sirius felt his cheeks heating for some reason. "Well, yeah. You guys were my second choice, I had thought about inviting him for drinks. I told him to hit me up if he needed anything."

" _ Hit you up _ ?" James repeated, grinning widely. "Please tell me that's exactly what you said to him. God, you're so cool, Padfoot, I don't know if I can be in the same room with you." 

Sirius made a rude gesture at James, who continued, undeterred.

"—so hip to all the new lingo, so  _ on fleek _ —"

Sirius threw a pillow at James, who caught it, laughing. 

"Oi, watch the scotch!" Lily intervened. "And bloody hell, James, please don't embarrass me in front of the alcohol."

Sirius laughed loudly while James pouted. 

"Oh, I see how it is,  _ Sirius _ is the cool one, I'm just the boring, stuffy old dad who doesn't understand what 'ratchet' means—"

"Come off it, Prongs, you've never been cool," Sirius taunted. "Lily only married you because she knew I'd always be around." 

Lily sighed. "You caught me. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, James. Sirius has captured my heart, and has always had it. You should know, Harry—"

"NO, no, no, let's change the subject again, I am  _ not _ a fan of where this is going," James said loudly, leaning forward suddenly, causing scotch to slosh out of his glass. "Oh, shit, there it goes—"

"Lily, we need to drink the scotch before Prongs spills the rest all over his awful jumper—"

" _ What _ about my jumper?"

 

Harry returned home after midnight, by which point the scotch was long gone, and James was telling some ridiculous story involving a lot of grandiose hand gestures, leaving Sirius and Lily giggling helplessly. Harry leaned against the entry to the living room, grinning.

"You guys having fun?"  

" _ That's _ who you should be badgering to get a girlfriend, Lily (or boyfriend, whatever),  _ that _ virile specimen right there!" Sirius said loudly, pointing vaguely in Harry's direction; Harry's grin faltered suddenly, and he looked confused.

"What's this now?"

"Harry," Sirius turned to Harry with surprising grace and observed him seriously. "Are you interested in anyone right now?"

Harry flushed. "Erm, I mean, Ginny and I just broke up, so—" 

"An excellent point," James shouted. He never was very good at volume control after a few drinks (or when he was sober). 

Lily giggled. "Don't mind them, Harry; we were bothering Sirius earlier about his love life." 

"His  _ lack _ of love life," James corrected, nodding exaggeratedly. 

"At the rate you lot are going, I'm feeling like I'm going to adopt twenty cats so I can leave everything to them when I die," Sirius said. "And you get  _ nothing _ ." 

James gave a faux gasp. "Not even the Black family silver?"

"Not. Even. The silver." Sirius said viciously. 

"What about all the stuffed heads of various dead animals?" 

"All to the cats." 

"I thought you got rid of those," Lily said thoughtfully. 

"Oh, that's right, I burned them years ago—well, you still get  _ nothing _ ." 

"Oi, what about me? What did I do?" Harry said indignantly. 

"Like father, like son! Your very name offends me!  _ The cats get everything _ ."

 

Sirius finally stumbled across the street to his house close to two in the morning, after James had started snoring in his chair and a sleepy Lily bade him goodbye. 

His house was just as dark and cold as he had imagined earlier in the day, but the evening spent with Lily and James seemed to keep him warm as he fell into bed. 


	9. Chapter 9

Because he was an idiot, Sirius has neglected to change the alarm on his phone from its usual weekday alarm to the weekend alarm (where he would sleep in until somewhere between nine and noon, depending on his mood), so just a few hours after he had fallen asleep his phone blared its 6 AM alarm aggressively, nearly giving him a heart attack. Still in his jeans and T-shirt from the night before, his shoes and jacket on the floor next to him, Sirius pawed blindly to shut off the alarm, too discombobulated to tell exactly where the noise was coming from. Once he had succeeded, he sighed and slumped back into his bed—before realizing that he hasn't plugged in his phone, and should probably do so. Groaning, his head feeling logy and achy, Sirius rolled over and scooped his phone from the floor, then gingerly rolled to the other side of the bed where his charger was plugged in by his nightstand. Eyes still half-closed, he shoved the cable into the charger port, and was about to place the phone on the nightstand and pass the fuck out when he noticed he had a new message.

A message from Remus Lupin.

Sirius sat up suddenly, immediately regretting the action as his head pounded viciously, and quickly unlocked his phone to check his texts.  

_ Oh God. _

A little after 1 AM earlier that morning, just before the abundance of scotch has caused to him start feeling nauseated-drunk as opposed to hilarious/giddy-drunk, Sirius had apparently texted Lupin. Sirius felt his face burning as he read the message with great reluctance.

_ Heeeyyy! Hermione told me that u had dinner w the longbottoms tonight how was that?? also i really want to read that book u were telling me about :) :3  _

_ Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. _ Sirius wanted to bury his head in his hands, but couldn't quite take his eyes off of the car-wreck of a text. (And what the  _ fuck _ was that second emoticon he had sent? Was that supposed to be a cat?) He steeled himself to read Lupin's response, which had been sent a surprisingly short time after Sirius' initial text.

_ I see I'm not the only one up. The dinner was lovely; I've known Alice for years but unfortunately haven't been able to see her in a while. Which book are you talking about? _

Okay, Sirius could work with that; the fact that Lupin responded at all gave him some hope that the librarian wouldn't ex-communicate him for being an overly familiar weirdo who sent bizarre smiley faces immediately after exchanging numbers. He thought carefully about his response, and after several drafts, settled on: 

_ Yeah, I blame the scotch for my late night. What's your excuse? I'm glad you had a good time. Er, that sci-fi book that didn't look like it wasn't sci-fi? Always Hold Me or something? _

Sirius sent it before he could over think the text. He didn't want to apologize and make it seem like he hadn't wanted to text Lupin at all, but hoped that the more appropriate tone would communicate that he didn't always text like an overly eager teenage girl (just when he was smashed). 

He carefully lay back against his headboard. Though he physically felt like shit and figured more sleep would help, Sirius suddenly felt wired, his brain buzzing, despite his body feebly crying for water and sleep. Sighing, he decided to hydrate himself and shower, since sleep felt like a distant possibility.

After chugging three glasses of water and bringing a fourth into the bathroom with him (leaving his phone to charge; he didn't expect Lupin to respond at this ungodly hour anyway), Sirius took a long, cold shower, already feeling more alert as he washed. He didn't masturbate, which as of late hadn't become so unusual; despite going through somewhat of a dry spell, Sirius found that taking himself in hand just wasn't as satisfying anymore. Another sign, he thought darkly as he turned the water off and grabbed a towel, of how old he was getting. 

He walked back to his room naked, rubbing a towel gently through his hair, trying not to aggravate his headache. He threw yesterday's clothes in the hamper (they probably reeked of booze and sweat), and pulled on jeans and his favorite Ramones shirt, which was  _ just _ this side of too-small, but he refused to give up. Draping the towel around his neck, Sirius checked his phone and was surprised to find that Lupin had responded already.

_ I don't have a good excuse for being up so late, I'm afraid. Hah, you're close; the book is called Never Let Me Go. I'm pleased that you're interested in it. Unfortunately, I don't believe Hogwarts has a copy. _

Sirius read the text several times over, and then before he could lose his courage, he typed:

_ I guess I'll just have to buy one then. Since I had my fill of drinks for the entire month last night,  how do you feel about a bookstore adventure with coffee? _

Sirius' chest felt oddly tight after sending the text, and he was bewildered to find he had butterflies in his stomach (wait, were those post-drinking-vomit-butterflies? After waiting a minute and not feeling an urge to retch he decided they were not). God, was he so out of practice making friends that he was turning into a nervous teenager about it? Sirius did have to admit that his social circle had shrunk in recent years, being fairly limited to the Potters, Hagrid, and the occasional partner or old school mate. He just didn't realize that he had gotten so out of touch with . . . everything. 

His phone buzzed and Sirius almost jumped as he eagerly read Lupin's response.

_ Today? I have an appointment at eleven, but after that I'm all yours. _

Sirius couldn't stop a wide grin from crossing his face. He checked the time; it was nearly seven. He had plenty of time. After peeking out the window, Sirius decided to go for a run, if nothing else but to work off his odd nervous energy; he could probably do with another shower after anyway. 


	10. Chapter 10

Sirius leaned against the wall and scuffed his feet across the pavement, trying to keep the feeling in his legs as he waited for Lupin (his top half was perfectly warm in his leather jacket, but neither the ride on his bike nor the chilly weather were particularly kind to his denim-clad legs). Sirius checked his phone again: it was just past one PM. 

_ Calm down, Black, you just got here early. It's not like this is a date or anything. _

That thought made his stomach do a funny flip— _ What the hell was that? _ —but before he could devote more thought to it, he spotted a heavily bundled-up Lupin shuffling slowly towards him. Sirius grinned and waved, and Lupin raised a be-gloved hand in response. 

Sirius straightened up and smiled. He had initially proposed that the duo go to a local chain bookstore, which conveniently had a coffee place located inside, but Lupin was uncharacteristically firm in his preference for going to his own personal favorite used bookstore—a little hole in the wall called Flourish and Blotts. Sirius acquiesced completely willingly, interested to see where Lupin spent his time outside of the school. They could always hit up one of the dozens of coffee shops that littered the downtown area if they so desired.

Lupin drew level with Sirius and smiled. "Hope you didn't have to wait long. Today was not an optimal day for bus reliability."

"No problem, I got here early. You don't have a car?" Sirius asked as they walked to the entrance of the bookstore.

"No need, really. I don't go out or travel much, plus it's much less expensive to simply use the buses." As they entered the shop, Lupin paused for a moment to draw in a deep breath, then his face split into a wide, genuine smile that lit up his whole face; Sirius found himself automatically smiling in return. He had never seen Lupin with such an unguarded look. 

Seeing Sirius' smile, Lupin turned to him with a slightly sheepish look. "Sorry if I get a little overeager. This place feels like a second home to me."

"I should think so," an amused voice cut in. "Since I think you're half the reason this place is still in business." 

The two men rounded several stacks of towering books to find the speaker, a grandfatherly-looking man, complete with rosy cheeks and an argyle sweater, standing behind the counter. 

"Alberic!" Lupin smiled again and went to shake the man's hand. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise, Remus. Though I would say it has been too long," He turned to Sirius. "Are you a friend of Remus'?"

"Yes, sorry," Lupin stepped back to include Sirius in the group. "Alberic, this is, ah—well he works at Hogwarts with me as a teacher, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is one of the owners, Alberic Blotts. He's been a great friend to me over the years."

"It's lovely to meet a friend of Remus'!" Alberic Blotts shook Sirius' proffered hand with both of his own energetically; Sirius found his enthusiasm charming. "Though I'm almost sorry that Hogwarts took you away from us!"

Sirius looked at Lupin. "Is this one of the shops you've worked at?"

Lupin nodded. "Alberic gave me a position when I was in a tough spot, but the shop doesn't really need me."

"Nonsense," Alberic scolded. "It was wonderful for Heathcote and I to get some time off, and the customers absolutely adored your book recommendations!" 

Lupin ducked his head. "Well, I'm grateful I was able to work here. And the shop seems to be doing well regardless."

Alberic sighed dramatically. "Yes, well, ever since you and Heathcote  _ forced _ me to start stocking more new releases, I suppose there has been a bit of an increase in traffic and sales."

"Heathcote Flourish is the other owner," Lupin told Sirius, smiling wryly. "And 'forced' is a strong word, Alberic."

They were interrupted by a loud, plaintive meow. Sirius looked down to see that an enormous dark gray cat with sharp yellow eyes had approached them, and was currently twining between Lupin's legs, looking up at him and beginning to purr. 

"Hullo, Crumb," Lupin bent down to pet the cat, who immediately butted his hand against Lupin's hand, padding back and forth for maximum pets. Sirius had never seen Lupin smile so much in such a short time; the other man seemed much more relaxed here. 

"Is this your mascot?" Sirius asked, crouching down to join Lupin. The cat regarded Sirius somewhat suspiciously, pausing in his assault on Lupin's hand to regard the other man. Sirius held out his hand; the cat sniffed it, then rubbed his cheek against Sirius' fingers. 

"All right, I'm in! I passed the test," Sirius joked, scratching Crumb under the chin. The cat lifted his head for better access and purred louder. 

"Yes, you're Crumb-approved," Lupin's amused voice was close. Sirius turned to him, grinning, and found that Lupin's face was only about half a foot from his. Sirius suddenly noticed that his eyes were a light honey-brown color. He had never really looked before. His hand scratching Crumb's chin slowed, and the cat alerted him to this development with an irritated  _ mrrow _ .

"Ah, Remus!" Alberic's voice sounded, and Lupin jumped up. "I have something I've meaning to lend you, come take a look at it." The owner's voice was a bit farther away; he must've moved away when they were petting the cat. Lupin followed the counter down to meet Alberic.

Sirius exhaled slowly, then, giving Crumb one last scritch, rose up, wincing when his knees popped. He took a proper look around the store for the first time.

It was easy to see why Remus loved the place so much, Sirius thought; besides the sheer multitude of books, semi-neat shelves plus jammed-packed carts and various piles, the whole store had a very  _ cozy _ feeling to it. Sirius felt at ease in the quiet, softly-lit shop. 

"What do you think?" Remus' soft voice asked from behind Sirius. He turned around and smiled. 

"It's lovely. I can definitely see why you want to spend time here," He laughed. "Have you told Hermione about this place?"

Remus huffed a quiet laugh. "I don't believe I have; should I?"

"Definitely. I think she would either start salivating or go into shock."

"Maybe she should bring reinforcements."

"I'll enlist Ron and Harry for that job."

The men smiled at each other, and missed the way Alberic Blotts beamed at the two of them. 

 

Remus and Sirius spent a leisurely couple hours wandering Flourish and Blotts, Crumb often trailing behind them. Sirius mostly ambled after Remus, who alternated between determinedly striding towards certain sections or shelves and pulling down random books to examine. Occasionally, he would carefully write down the title and author of a book that interested him in a small notebook that was in his shoulder bag. Remus didn't buy any books, but Sirius purchased three: a copy of  _ Never Let Me Go _ and two science fiction novels that Remus recommended:  _ The Left Hand of Darkness _ and  _ The Man Who Fell to Earth _ , the latter of which Sirius had actually heard of before. 

When they were in a coffee shop, Sirius holding a large black coffee and Remus cradling some tea, Remus asked Sirius where he had heard of  _ The Man Who Fell to Earth _ . 

Sirius grinned. "Have you seen the movie?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Ah, it's a movie. That's why."

"Hey, I don't  _ always _ just know the movie! I have read a respectable amount of books; it just seems small compared to your freakily encyclopedic database of the written word." Sirius internally winced, wondering if the teasing was too far.

Remus smirked and took a sip of his tea. "Was the movie good?"

Sirius felt relieved and laughed. "Oh no, it was a hot pile of garbage. Most of the reason I saw it was because David Bowie starred in it." Remus looked surprised and Sirius nodded. "Oh yeah, he was the alien. Looked the part, but that might've been because of the metric ton of coke he was reportedly on at the time."

Remus snorted, and Sirius protested, "It  _ was _ 1976, it was the thing to do! Not that I did ever did anything like that," he added hastily. He changed the subject as Remus smirked again. "What book did Alberic give you?" 

Remus put down his mug and started rifling through the shoulder bag draped over his chair; the bag rattled loudly, as if he was shaking eight packs of Tic-Tacs. Sirius raised an exaggerated eyebrow, but Remus didn't notice as he finally procured a slim book and handed it to Sirius. "It's a book of poetry. I've never read the author before," he explained.

_ The Rebel's Silhouette _ . There was a bookmark in the volume, and Sirius flipped it open to that page and read the poem.

_ Before you came,  _

_ things were as they should be: _

_ the sky was the dead-end of sight, _

_ the road was just a road, wine merely wine. _

 

_ Now everything is like my heart, _

_ a color at the edge of blood: _

_ the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns, _

_ the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,  _

_ the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames _

_ and the black when you cover the earth _

_ with the coal of dead fires. _

There was more, and Sirius wanted to finish it, but he was suddenly aware of the silence that had fallen as he had intensely read the poem; he quickly handed the book back to Remus, who was sipping his tea, looking out the window, seemingly completely unconcerned. "I like this one a lot."

Remus took the book and read the passage, his head bowed and hair falling across his forehead just as it had been when Sirius had seen him in the library for the first time. Sirius found himself smiling at the sight without really knowing why.

Remus took his time, but eventually he smiled, a little sadly, and placed the bookmark back. "You have good taste. I think I've found a new favorite poet."

"It's a vivid description of fall," Sirius offered. He was curious as to why Remus looked melancholy; then again, the librarian did seem prone to suddenly becoming introspective and sad at the drop of a hat. Maybe that was just how he was.

"It is," Remus agreed. "Though I personally prefer spring; it's much warmer." 

"But fall is Halloween! And then it's Thanksgiving, and Christmas . . . ."

The clouds seemed to part on Remus' face somewhat, and his eyes lightened as he contemplated Sirius. "I would wager that you're one for large, raucous holiday parties." 

Sirius inclined his coffee cup towards the other man. "In my youth, sure. I would gather all my school chums, spike the eggnog, and let the holiday spirit do the rest."

"And now?"

"Well, I still have spiked eggnog and holiday spirit, those are necessary. And James and Lily were friends of mine in school, so I guess it's the same basic principle, just scaled down to about half a dozen people."

"Mmm?" Remus inquired wordlessly as he sipped his tea.

"James Potter is my best mate," Sirius explained. "He and his wife Lily named me his godfather of their son, Harry. As I live right across from them, I use their house like my own; I'm like their permanent Christmas spirit." He laughed.

Remus smiled. "And . . . your family?" he asked somewhat tentatively.

Sirius shook his head briskly. "Either dead or as good as to me. Never got along with my folks; James' parents treated me more like a son than my own parents did."

"Ah. It seems fortunate that you had him as a friend growing up."

"Yup," Sirius said cheerfully. "And now I'm repaying him by being the kooky, permanent bachelor of an uncle. No wife, no kids. No husband either, for that matter," Sirius winked rakishly at Remus over the top of his coffee mug, and Remus suddenly started choking violently on his tea, his face turning bright red.

They got ready to leave soon after; however, when Sirius discovered that Remus planned on taking the bus home, he insisted on giving him a ride. 

"Look, you can wear my helmet, and you're wearing enough layers that you won't get windburn," Sirius said loudly over Remus' stuttering. "It'll be twice as fast as taking the bus, and a whole lot more comfortable than sitting with a bunch of strangers. Well, somewhat more comfortable."

Remus caved eventually, and after giving directions to his place, Sirius guided the other man onto the bike, telling him what to expect (as this was Remus' first time on a motorcycle, unsurprisingly).

"Don't be afraid to grab onto me if you feel unsteady; it can feel very awkward your first time. Don't worry, I don't bite." Sirius winked at Remus again, and even under the helmet visor Sirius could tell the other man was blushing. It was way, way too easy, and Sirius enjoyed how Remus reacted when he teased him. 

At first Remus kept a careful distance between their bodies, but by the time Sirius got up to speed and onto the main road Remus was a lot more liberal with his body contact, his legs pressed right behind Sirius', arms almost wrapped entirely around the other man's waist in order to keep himself steady. Despite this close contact, Remus felt very light and almost fragile behind Sirius; he focused on driving more cautiously than usual, irrationally afraid that Remus would fall off the bike. 

Sirius pulled up in front of a rather shabby apartment building and waited for Remus to dismount. After a few moments, Remus quietly said, "I think I'm stuck." Sirius barked a laugh, and gently disentangled Remus' arms from his waist, and kept a hand on his arm to guide him off the bike. Once he had both feet on the pavement, Remus took off the helmet and gave it back to Sirius, looking slightly wobbly still; but his eyes were bright. He smiled at Sirius, and Sirius smiled back.

"Thanks for showing me your secret shop," Sirius blurted out.  _ That could have sounded slightly cooler _ . "Er, I had fun."

"I did as well," Remus said softly. He was gripping the handle of his shoulder bag with both hands. The men stared at each other for a moment, then Remus abruptly said, "I'll see you on Monday then. I mean, that is, if you happen—" 

"Yeah, I'll drop by," Sirius agreed, and the other man relaxed. Then he waved and turned towards the apartments. Sirius watched him go, and when Remus gave him one last wave before closing the door, Sirius put his helmet on and headed for home. 

It was only later that night that Sirius wondered when he had started referring to the librarian by his first name in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesss, more name-dropping of my preferred literature! "Never Let Me Go" makes an appearance again, and in comes "The Left Hand of Darkness" by Ursula K. Le Guin (which I have not read but really really want to), and the book of poetry "The Rebel's Silhouette" by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, which I highly recommend.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry wasn't in school on Wednesday morning. This was odd and especially unexpected since Sirius hadn't made his usual stop at the Potter's before school that day (as he may or may not have stayed up late the night before texting a certain librarian), and thus he had not been made aware. When he approached Ron and Hermione, sitting at their usual table sans Harry, and asked them what was going on, Sirius got curiously conflicting responses; Ron shrugged, smashed the clay figure he was trying to refine, and said that Harry had caught a bug. Hermione murmured noncommittally, but looked significantly at Sirius, and then at the back corner table where Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson sat. Sirius raised his eyebrows in confusion, and Hermione tutted. A few minutes later, after he had consulted with Eloise Midgen about the color palette she was using, he saw that Hermione had sent him a text:  _ About Harry: talk to you at lunch? _

Sirius hesitated. In the few days since he and Remus had gone out to Flourish and Blotts, he had made it a routine to stop in and eat with the librarian during the lunch hour, as well as visiting him during his free period before lunch, and right after school. Sirius was loath to give up his lunch hour with Remus, though he couldn't say exactly why, especially as he suddenly realized he spent an awfully large amount of the school day in the library. He made a decision and texted Hermione:  _ I'll be in the library during lunch. Meet me there? _

_ Being an art teacher definitely has its perks _ , Sirius thought happily as he strolled towards the library just twenty minutes into his free period. Because of the nature of art and the art classes he taught, Sirius didn't have as many papers, reports, and homework sheets to grade as some of the other teachers did. The younger students needed more direction and instruction, but even then Sirius could do such one-on-one with the student, which he preferred anyway. 

So now Sirius had most of the period to chat with Remus before Hermione came to talk with him, and if Remus was helping students, Sirius could continue reading  _ Never Let Me Go _ , which he currently had tucked under his arm. Sirius didn't remember the last time he had dedicated so much time to reading, and he had to admit he had missed it. Remus was definitely a good influence on him, he decided. 

When Sirius went into the library he first saw Professor McGonagall with her Advanced Literature class amongst the computer terminals, presumably starting research for their semester-long book report. He nodded to McGonagall, who nodded back, then waved at Hermione, who gave a quick smile. 

Not immediately seeing Remus anywhere, Sirius took possession of the librarian's chair behind the main desk, and, putting his feet up on the counter, started to read his book. 

He was already quite absorbed when, ten minutes later, he heard Remus' quiet footsteps approach the desk. Sirius looked up from his book and gave the librarian a winning grin, which was returned (albeit in a smaller, quieter way). 

"Good afternoon," Remus greeted politely. "How have your classes been today?"

"Great!" Sirius chirped. He closed his book and settled his hands on his stomach, studiously ignoring Remus' raised eyebrow towards his propped feet (Remus found it amusing, not annoying, Sirius knew; he could get away with it. For now). "Harry isn't here today, though. Bit odd."

"Really? Is he sick?"

"No idea. Hermione actually asked to talk to me today during lunch," Sirius leaned forward conspiratorially. "I think something's going on, but I haven't the faintest of what it is."

Remus frowned. "Oh dear. I hope everything's all right."

Sirius leaned back. "Yeah, me too." He actually was a little worried, but was trying to quash the feeling; if something was  _ really _ wrong, somebody—James, Lily, or Harry himself—would have talked to him about it. He hoped. 

"Well, I'll make myself scarce when she comes here," Remus assured Sirius. "In the meantime, would you like to help me shelve some returns?"

"Sure!" Sirius leaped up. Remus had been teaching him the Dewey Decimal System, and now only had to re-shelve about 20% of the books Sirius shelved, a vast improvement over his initial attempt on Monday. "Don't worry about making yourself scarce, though. I trust you," Sirius added casually, and as he was edging out from behind the desk, he missed the look of shock and emotion that crossed Remus' face at this statement. 

They shelved books, sometimes chatting and laughing, other times falling into companionable silence. Once that was done, Sirius and Remus sat behind the main desk together, reading and conversing (they discussed where Sirius was in  _ Never Let Me Go _ ) until the bell rang. McGonagall's class streamed out of the library, eager for lunch, and Sirius watched for Hermione; he found her deep in conversation with McGonagall, and Sirius rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

Not too long after, Hermione approached the desk, looking a little nervous. Remus made as if to covertly leave Sirius and Hermione together, when Sirius quickly said, "Hermione, d'you mind if Remus stays?"

Hermione looked between the two men, and the corner of her mouth quirked a little before she said, "Of course not,"

Remus tried to argue, "No, really, I'm not part of this—"

"Remus, d'you think the library can hold its own while we talk?" Sirius interjected loudly. Remus needed to learn when he was defeated ( _ and when he's wanted _ , Sirius' brain unexpectedly added).

Remus sighed. "Yes, I think so."

The three headed to a table near the back, where the windows looked over the sports fields; Sirius could see the track, the rugby field, and the building that housed the pool. He idly wondered when Harry's and Ron's first rugby game of the year would be.

Hermione looked more nervous still, and after sitting for several seconds in silence, Remus looking patient and gentle as always, Sirius decided to jump-start the conversation. "So, about Harry . . . ?"

Hermione's eyes snapped to Sirius. "Yes. Harry. Um," she bit her lip. "I'm not quite sure where to start, but . . . Malfoy . . . has feelings. For Harry. And he told him. Yesterday." 

Dead silence fell over the table, which was almost immediately broken by Sirius laughing. Hermione rolled her eyes; Remus' face was perfectly neutral, still and calm.

"W _ -What? _ " Sirius managed through his laughter. "That pompous ferret—likes— _ Harry _ ?"   

"How did you find this out?" Remus asked quietly. Sirius stopped laughing.

Hermione, who had been looking at Sirius in irritation, focused on Remus. "Harry told me," she said simply. "I don't think he knew what else to do." 

Remus nodded wisely. Sirius couldn't blame Harry, he himself felt bewildered. Fearing he might say something overly insensitive, Sirius let Remus do the talking; he was much better at this, anyway. 

"Have you or Ron texted him?" Remus asked. 

"Yes; he told Ron he had a bug, which he bought so he hasn't bothered Harry again, and he just brushed me off this morning."

Malfoy was in love with Harry; next McGonagall would announce her dreams to be a pole dancer. He wasn't quite sure what to think. Then, a thought struck him. "Do James and Lily know?"

Hermione shrugged. "I think Harry's talked to his mum a bit about the weird behavior, but I have no clue if he told them about Malfoy having feelings for him." 

Remus nodded again, then asked gently, "And how do you feel about this?"

Hermione and Sirius both looked at Remus in surprise; before Sirius could crack a joke or inform Remus just how nasty all the Malfoys were, Hermione said, "I'm . . . not really sure. Malfoy's been nothing but cruel to us, and most of the school's populous, since we were kids. But I've been thinking about it, and . . ." she hesitated, and Sirius felt torn between curiosity and exasperation; Malfoy was a slimy jerk, not much else to it. But Hermione was not just intelligent, but very perceptive—she reminded Sirius a lot of Lily in that way. So he shut up and listened. 

Hermione took a frustrated breath. "I know Malfoy's parents are pretty awful—at least his father is, if half of what Mr. Weasley has told us is true ("They've had  _ encounters _ at work," Sirius murmured to Remus under his breath, and the other man nodded), and I can't imagine what it must be like growing up in such a toxic environment, then realizing you have feelings for someone your family despises ("Old family grudges," Sirius explained again), that would be awful. It would be easy to keep hating Malfoy, but it seems like he might be changing and, I don't know . . . maybe he needs another chance."

There was silence for a minute; Sirius didn't know what to say again, but Remus came to the rescue. "Hermione, if I may?" Hermione nodded, and Remus continued. "I think the best thing to do right now is take a step back. It seems like Harry needs time to process this, which is understandable considering what a turnaround it must seem like, and you can be ready to help him when he asks for it. It would be wise to not talk to anyone else about this, such as Ron, until Harry is ready to talk about it." Hermione nodded, looking thoughtful; Sirius looked at Remus, impressed.  _ Remus is wasted as a librarian; he should be a psychologist _ .  _ Or a life coach _ . 

Still, Sirius couldn't not have the last word. "What he said," he added blandly, and Hermione laughed quietly.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Both of you. I'm not sure exactly what Malfoy said to Harry, but it's bad enough that he didn't come to school, and that's been making me worried sick. I feel a bit better now; I think I'll go join Ron for lunch." She bade Remus and Sirius goodbye. 

Sirius sat back in his chair; he was pleased that he and (mostly) Remus had reassured Hermione, but Malfoy's revelation to Harry was a huge revelation to Sirius as well, and he still needed to mull it over. Could he discuss this with James and Lily? Or should he wait until Harry said something?

As he was pondering, Remus said hurriedly, "I'm sorry. Hermione wanted to talk to you, I shouldn't have butted in and made it my business—"

"What?" Sirius said, slightly bewildered. "Remus, she said she was fine with you being here as well. Besides, you're the one that actually helped her; if you hadn't been here, I probably would have just gone on a tirade over what a twat Malfoy is, and that wouldn't have helped anybody.You're the one who was doling out thoughtful, practical advice, don't apologize for that."

Remus, who had been staring at the table, tense and still, flicked his eyes up to Sirius'. "You're not angry?"

"Angry?" Alarm and confusion piled on top of Sirius' bewilderment. "Good lord, no. If I had wanted you to shut up I would've said so. You didn't do anything wrong." 

Remus' posture relaxed. "All right. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Sorry, I get—"

"I thought I said I didn't want to hear any apologies," Sirius warned, but softened it with a smile. 

Remus ducked his head briefly. "Yes, I'm—well. Thank you," he repeated.

"You're welcome," Sirius said. He found himself still smiling at Remus, and as the other man returned his smile, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and light poured through the library windows. The sunlight illuminated Remus' face, and Sirius could see flecks of darker brown and gold in his tawny eyes and the creases around them, and faint freckles that painted Remus' nose and cheeks that had been invisible to Sirius before. 

Seeing all this, his heart gave a weird flutter.  _ What the hell—  _

Remus suddenly cleared his throat and stood up. "Shall we eat?" 

Sirius mentally shook his head. "Uh, yeah, sounds good." Remus grabbed the lunch he had packed, and they walked to Sirius' art room and ate. Afterwards Sirius showed him some of the artwork the kids had done, and studiously ignored how close Remus was standing to him and how it made his heart beat faster. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS A GODDAMN MIRACLE. ANOTHER CHAPTER.  
> I swear I haven't abandoned this. Be patient, and I'll try to keep up with quality chapters.  
> Also, this is an entirely Drarry chapter, so if you don't like that . . . tough. Remus and Sirius will be in the next chapter. :)

Harry felt restless. Despite his frequent grumblings about school, it seemed that he was rather at loose ends when he didn't have his day filled with classes, not to mention all the socializing he missed by staying home "sick." Watching TV and dicking around on the internet could only hold his interest for so long, and so by 6:30 Harry was practically bursting with unspent energy. He begged off eating dinner with his parents (James and Lily didn't know the real reason why he had wanted to stay home today, but Harry was grateful that they had mostly left him alone and bought his "sick" excuse), then drove to the school.

He took only his keys, and then stored those in his rugby locker before heading out to the track behind the school. He'd skivved off rugby practice by missing school, and thus had missed the cardio that would help burn off his excess energy—and distract him from intruding thoughts.

Harry's stomach flipped in apprehension when he saw that he wasn't the only one who had had the bright idea to run. Coming towards him, finishing up a lap of the quarter-mile track, was an unmistakable silver-blond figure: Draco Malfoy. 

Harry froze, quite unsure of what to do. He was still furiously considering turning and running when Malfoy spotted him, and slowed his jog.

"I'll just—" Harry jerkily pointed to where he'd come from. 

"Potter, the track's big enough for both of us," Malfoy said tiredly. "Don't be—" He broke off and sighed. "I'm just here to run."

"All right," Harry said awkwardly, but he didn't move. Malfoy rolled his eyes and started jogging again, taking a decently fast, steady pace. Harry bent down to touch his toes, stalling. It was very quiet on the field, the only audible sounds were distant traffic and the rhythmic  _ thump _ s of Malfoy's feet. 

Harry straightened up, then bent his right leg behind him, pulling gently on his foot to increase the stretch. His eyes followed Malfoy as he switched to the other leg; Malfoy had already made it a quarter of the way around the track.  

Finally, realizing that he had to start running now or just continuing stretching all night, Harry started jogging, the rhythm of his footsteps joining Malfoy's. 

There wasn't much else to look at besides Malfoy's green-and-silver clad back as Harry trotted slowly, letting his muscles warm up. He suddenly wished very much that he had brought his phone, so he could've listened to a podcast or music or something, as his brain insistently tried to puzzle out what had happened yesterday.

_ "Potter." _

_ Harry turned around, surprised. It was Tuesday, the last bell signaling the end of the day's classes having rung not thirty seconds ago. Harry, who had just opened his locker, turned to see Malfoy leaning back on the bank of lockers across from Harry's. _

_ "Er, yes?" He said cautiously. _

_ "Let's talk." _

_ Harry blinked, bewildered. He scanned right and left quickly, half-expecting Crabbe and Goyle to jump out while Malfoy distracted him, but he couldn't see the hulking figures in the slow stream of students heading down the hallway. _

_ "It's not a trap," Malfoy sighed, straightening up. Harry noticed that Malfoy was wearing, well—normal clothes; rather, no ostentatious designer labels. Just a plain T-shirt and hoodie with jeans. "I just want to get something out." _

_ "Ah, okay?" It came out like a question, and Malfoy rolled his eyes half-heartedly, then impatiently waited as Harry quickly crammed his stuff from his locker to his backpack.  _

Harry mentally shook his head and came back to himself as he realized that he had sped up considerably. He slowed his pace, not wanting to burn out early. He had almost halved the distance between him and Malfoy, and saw that the other boy was wearing white earbuds. Harry cursed himself again for running out of the house with only his keys. He tried to go through rugby moves in his head to distract himself, intensely focusing on the plays from all angles; start, attack, defend, support, evade . . .

But inevitably his mind returned to yesterday afternoon.

_ Malfoy led them to a sheltered corner outside the back entrance of the school where they likely wouldn't be interrupted. Almost immediately Malfoy slumped onto the low stone wall, bag lying at his feet, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and lit up. Harry stood a few feet away awkwardly; Malfoy noticed him and inclined the pack towards Harry with a raised eyebrow. Harry shook his head, not trusting his voice.  _ What the hell was going on?

_ Malfoy took his time, inhaling deeply on the cig, then tilting his head upwards to blow out a thick stream of smoke. Harry started to get rather nervous, then felt stupid for doing so; Malfoy had a few inches on him and was an asshat, but he wasn't stupid. Malfoy wouldn't start a brawl, and if he started to throw verbal abuse at Harry, he could just walk away.  _

_ Malfoy took another drag, then sighed on the exhale. "Alright," he said quietly. He hunched over so his elbows were resting on his knees, cigarette dangling from two fingers. Harry was looking at his profile, and noticed purple shadows under Malfoy's eyes, and, was his hair  _ greasy _? Harry wondered if he had slipped into a parallel dimension. _

_ Malfoy met Harry's eyes briefly, then returned his gaze to the wall in front of him and put his cigarette to his lips again. He said, after exhaling, "I want to say something, then we can both walk away and forget this. But," he stopped and met Harry's eyes evenly. "Don't say anything, and if you're feeling merciful, don't laugh."  _

Harry's breath was starting to come in short puffs, and he cursed and forced himself to slow down again. Just thinking about That Talk (as he had come to refer to it in his head), got his adrenaline up, as he remembered the mixture of alarm, concern, and absolute bewilderment he had felt.  __

Malfoy was only about thirty yards ahead of him now, and they had both finished the fourth lap of the track, marking a whole mile. Harry tried, in desperation, to focus on the scenery to his right, just so he wouldn't have to focus on Malfoy anymore, but this only made him start to drift. Harry swore again and got back on the path, determinedly staring at just Malfoy's shoes. They were the same shoes Malfoy had been wearing during The Talk.

_ "Alright," Harry unintentionally echoed Malfoy's utterance of the word, his voice croaky. He desperately hoped that this big confession or whatever was about rugby; that would be much more manageable than any of the wild alternatives Harry's brain was helpfully supplying. _

_ Malfoy sighed heavily, and took a puff. Then, he said slowly, "D'you remember in sixth grade when Ms. Odder made us partners for that project?" _

_ Harry blinked. He hadn't thought of Ms. Odder in a while. True to her name, Ms. Odder was unusual, and often forgot to assign the students homework as she expounded upon the wonders of nature. _

_ "It was about frogs," Harry said, unexpectedly to not just himself but apparently to Malfoy as well, who flicked to his eyes over to Harry and gave a ghost of a smile. _

_ "That one. And your dad took us out to the river to study them in their 'natural habitat,'" Malfoy drawled the last part. Even though he didn't make air quotes around the last two words, Harry could hear them.  _

_ "You pushed me in the river after half an hour." _

_ Malfoy paused, cigarette halfway up to his mouth. "Yes," he said softly. He took a drag. "My apologies. If you'll accept it seven years later." _

Was this what Malfoy was getting at?  _ A random incident of bullying that Harry barely remembered, much less held a grudge about? _

_ "Your dad," Malfoy stopped abruptly, then continued. "He didn't lash out. He was mad at me, I knew that, but he talked to me seriously about why what I did was wrong, as if I was an adult. It was the first time I considered that the ways things were done at my house weren't . . . right. Weren't normal." _

_ Harry was still thoroughly confused. "Oh," was what he managed. _

"Er . . . Potter?"

Harry jolted out of his memories to find that he was running almost right beside Malfoy. 

"Oh," he panted, immediately slowing down. "Ah. Sorry," he said between breaths, then ducked his head and started to fall behind.

"I don't care, Potter," Malfoy said, taking one earbud out. He barely sounded winded. "We've done the same training, I know you're not slower than me. Don't hold yourself back."

Harry nodded cautiously, though Malfoy wasn't looking and it came across as more of a jerky spasm than anything else. He brought himself back to his regular pace so he was level with Malfoy, but put a few feet between himself and the other boy.

_ "I was jealous of you, for a long time," Malfoy continued abruptly. "Which made me mad. And, as I'd learned, since I didn't know what to do with that anger, I lashed out." Bitterness dripped from the last sentence. His tone was more level and softer as he continued, "But it wasn't all anger. Not after a while."  _

Malfoy had put his earbud back in, and was facing straight ahead in perfect running posture, his motions smooth and sure. Harry focused on both of their footsteps, and was surprised when he and Malfoy unconsciously synched their steps so there was just one rhythmic set of  _ thump thump _ s echoing across the track. 

_ The silence after Malfoy's statement was so dense that Harry could hear his heartbeat in his head, thumping quickly. He distantly realized that Hermione had said multiple times over the years that Malfoy was jealous of Harry, but he hadn't quite believed her (Ron's complete dismissal of the hypothesis contributed to this. "Hermione, he's just a cockwaffle. There's no deeper meaning to it."). He'd have to tell her that she'd been right. _

_ "It took me years to realize that I'd been playing the cliched part of an angst-ridden adolescent all this time," Harry tuned back into Malfoy's voice as he continued. "If you like someone but don't know how to show it, you get their attention with the method most familiar to you." _

The sun was setting as the two boys came around the halfway point of the track, its red-orange blaze blinding Harry momentarily; before he ducked his head to avoid the glare, he saw the light reflecting off Malfoy's sleek hair, adding yellows and oranges that weren't naturally there. 

_ "I'm not sure when my hatred for you turned into feelings for you, but it happened. And now we're here."  _

_ Malfoy dropped his cigarette, which was burned almost to the filter, and ground it under his foot. He picked up his backpack and started walking, meeting Harry's eyes briefly as he passed.  _

_ "Enjoy senior year, Potter."  _

_ Harry stared at the extinguished cigarette butt on the ground for several minutes, trying not to think. _

Harry drew in a gasping breath, and he swore he saw Malfoy's head jerk towards him momentarily. He exhaled, then inhaled again. All of a sudden, running was much easier. 

He and Malfoy finished the first lap, then another. Then two more. Finally, red and panting, they did a quarter-mile cooldown walk, not talking or looking at each other. Without any communication, they walked silently back towards the lockers. Neither had stored much in their respective lockers, so they ended up walking together out towards the parking lot as well. Harry's car was across the lot from Malfoy's. Before turning away, he caught Malfoy's eye. Harry nodded at him. And Malfoy nodded back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to try and Britpick this myself . . . . ? But that's a lot of work. So American measurements and such. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaat? Another chapter, within a week? I don't know if I can keep up this magical pace, but hey, it's a start! :)
> 
> Okay, a warning/reminder: this is not just the first fic I've ever written, but my first story to exceed 5,000 words, so in terms of pacing and storytelling, it may be a little rough. So if you read something you don't like/think could use revising, feel free to leave a comment with constructive criticism! (Real feedback and suggestions help me waaaaaay more than a comment that just says, "I didn't like X.")
> 
> Happy reading!

The next couple weeks flew by very quickly for Sirius. He would have resented the way the days blurred together rapidly together, except that they did in the best way—they were days filled with afternoon walks for coffee and sandwiches in the brisk bracing air, unhurried perusals under the soft lighting of Flourish & Blotts, and, most of all, muted laughter and conversations amongst the stacks at the Hogwarts library. All days, in short, spent with Remus Lupin.

In the past, Sirius had often spent his free time during the school day pleasantly shooting the shit in the staff lounge, not just with Hagrid but also Professor Flitwick (the civics teacher), Senora Sinistra, Professor Sprout (who taught biology, and may have been small in stature but could drink most men under the table), and even the odd Professor Firenze (astronomy and natural science), whose was good for a laugh as long as you didn't say he taught "astrology" instead of "astronomy" (in which case the lounge became a maelstrom of high-level insults and all manner of scientific debunking).  

Sirius hadn't been to the staff lounge (or outside the library, really) in a while, so on the last Friday in September he suggested he and Remus lunch there for a change, and Remus, genial as he was, agreed.

In retrospect, Sirius understood that what happened was inevitable, but it still angered him to his core. 

The lounge was fairly empty that afternoon, with Firenze deeply immersed in a scientific text in the corner, methodically munching on a salad as he read, and Hagrid, beaming at Sirius and Remus as they entered.

"'Allo there!" Hagrid boomed. The nice thing about Firenze was that his concentration was so deep that they could be as raucous as they wanted (to a point). Sirius appreciated him for that.

"All right, Hagrid?" Sirius grinned. Remus smiled in greeting. The two men joined Hagrid with their meals. 

"I thought you two were lost in the library," Hagrid said. "Haven' seen either of yeh in a while."

Sirius laughed. "Nah, just enjoying the books," he said. "Though I figured Remus should experience the splendor of the staff lounge at some point." He spread his arms wide, indicating the average-sized room, complete with refrigerator, microwave, and coffee pot. 

Remus nodded seriously. "I had no idea what I was missing." He smirked mischievously as Sirius snickered. 

"Harry's first rugby game is soon, innit?" Hagrid asked Sirius.

Sirius nodded as he swallowed a bite of his sandwich. "October 8th," he answered. "Would you be interested in coming?" He directed this at Remus.

Remus looked mildly surprised. "That's a Thursday, right?" When Sirius nodded, Remus seemed to consider. "All right," he finally answered. He smiled at Sirius, causing Sirius to smile back. "I'll go. That sounds like fun." 

There was a sudden derisive snort from behind the three men. Frowning, Sirius turned around in his chair to see that Severus Snape had entered the lounge, silently as a big cat, and was standing by the coffee pot, sneering at the group. Sirius' brow darkened. 

"Hello," Remus said politely. Sirius suddenly realized that Remus hadn't had Snape inflicted on him before; the chemistry teacher usually only haunted his own room, and Remus' refuges were the library and Sirius' classroom. He unconsciously tensed as Remus rose and crossed over to Snape, holding out a hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Remus Lupin, I'm helping Ms. Pince in the library."

Snape, leaning against the counter, arms folded over his chest, flicked his gaze lazily over Remus; Sirius could see his eyes linger on Remus' scuffed shoes, the worn knees on his pants, and the threads trailing off his bulky sweater. Snape almost seemed to smile, as a predator does when it senses easy prey. He took Remus' hand just by the fingertips, holding and releasing for the barest of seconds. "Snape," he said shortly. "Chemistry." 

Remus nodded in acknowledgment, affable expression still in place. "I'm really enjoying Hogwarts so far. I hope to see you in the library some time." Sirius was torn between being proud of Remus for being such a gentleman to someone Sirius himself knew was a worm, and enraged at the way Snape was looking at Remus, judging him and classifying him based on his clothes, as if Remus wasn't worth as much as Snape—as if Remus was  _ lower _ than him. 

When Snape didn't say anything, Remus nodded again, then turned to return to his lunch with Sirius and Hagrid. Snape watched him go, and just as Remus was seated, he said in a drawl, "Makes sense  _ you'd _ befriend him, Black."

Sirius practically growled, and Hagrid rumbled, "Easy, Sirius. He's jus' tryin' to get a rise outta you." Remus frowned, but also became very still, waiting, watching Sirius.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Though honestly I'm surprised he's here at all. What with his . . .  _ condition _ ." 

"Nobody wants to hear your thoughts,  _ Snivellus _ ," Sirius snarled. He saw that Remus' eyes had grown very wide, and they were now cast down towards the table. He didn't know what Snape meant, but regardless, anything that came out of Snape's mouth was a waste of air. "If it weren't for the fact that you're somehow still teaching here, I'd say that Dumbledore has impeccable standards for the staff he hires." 

"If yer jus' gonna start trouble, then get outta here, Snape," Hagrid said thunderously. 

Snape smirked. He plucked a coffee mug from a cupboard and filled it, his movements infuriatingly slow and self-assured. He then stood up straight and started slinking towards the door. 

"You three really are the perfect trio. The queer, the oaf . . . " He paused briefly right by Remus' chair before finishing: "And the  _ infected _ ." Then he was gone.

Sirius was almost trembling with rage.  _ What the fuck? _ He was incensed. He was furious. He was fucking  _ pissed _ . Not even because Snape could still niggle under his skin with just a look and a word (though that was enraging), but that he had insulted  _ Remus _ . Perfectly nice, wonderfully considerate Remus, who had only treated Snape as any colleague with a modicum of respect for other humans would. He breathed hard through his nose, restraining himself from sprinting out of the room and throwing Snape against a wall, then choking the life out of him with Snape's stupid overly long black shirts—

"Sirius an' Snape were in the same Hogwarts class," Hagrid's voice brought Sirius back to himself. "Never got along, tho' by the sound of it Snape's always been a sour lemon . . . " 

Sirius focused on Remus. The librarian was now looking just past Hagrid, eyes still wide and now slightly glazed-looking, an unhealthy pallor draining his skin of the little color it had. Sirius' heart flipped. Snape must've really upset Remus. Fuck, Sirius should go straight to Dumbledore, insist that Snape be fired or Sirius would, would, well he would do something—

"Tho' I can' understand why he stills makes fun a' you because yer queer, Sirius," Hagrid frowned. Sirius shook his head mentally. He could fantasize about getting retribution later. "Tha's never been a secret." 

There was a small  _ crack _ as Remus whipped his head towards Sirius. He didn't say anything, but stared at Sirius intensely. Sirius nodded, taken aback slightly. "Came out in early high school. Snape's just a good old-fashioned homophobe is my guess, Hagrid. Worthless little tripe takes every advantage to hate everybody he can." 

Remus made a small noise that may have been assent, then turned his attention to his food and mechanically started eating. Hagrid and Sirius carried the conversation for the rest of the meal, which was subdued and rather bitter (at least on Sirius' end). 

Hagrid waved them off when lunch was almost over, and Sirius and Remus walked in silence. 

Remus' face was expressionless as stone, lost to the world. Sirius wanted desperately to communicate to the other man how much better a person Remus was than Snape, how nothing Snape thought or said had any bearing in truth, reality, or Sirius' opinion of Remus, how Snape had been in the wrong and Remus had behaved in a commendus manner; what came out of Sirius' mouth was: "Look, Snape's a twat."  _ Goddammit _ . He swallowed. "I've been dealing with him since grade school, and what I said earlier applies; he just hates people on principle, for no real reason or purpose." 

Remus nodded mechanically. 

Sirius was frustrated. "You were . . . you were nothing but polite to him, he's just a cruel dick, you didn't deserve any of that, what he said didn't even make  _ sense _ , and . . ." He trailed off. There was a plethora of thoughts and feelings swirling in Sirius' head, but he couldn't articulate even half of them into coherent and appropriate sentences.

Remus looked at him, finally. "I know. Thank you." They had come to the juncture where the two would split up to their respective rooms. Sirius stopped, still furiously trying to come up with some magic phrase he could say that would bring Remus back from wherever in his head he was currently residing. An audible  _ bzzz _ interrupted his thoughts, a vibration that had Sirius' hand automatically going to his back pocket, but the noise hadn't come from his phone. Remus stopped too, a few feet from Sirius, and pulled a small white box (something that obviously wasn't a phone but wasn't obviously anything else) out of his pocket, then fiddled with the screen on it before putting it back in his pocket. Sirius tried one more time: "Remus, are you okay?"

Remus turned to face the other man; he looked slightly more present, but his face was still wan and wary. "I'm fine, Sirius." He gave the faintest smile. "I'll see you Monday." Then Sirius was left alone in the hallway, drained of anger, feeling slightly sick and sad.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, a nice, long chapter to get back into the swing of things (i.e., updating). Also, some smut. Just a little. >:)

The minute the last bell rang, Sirius had rushed out his classroom door down to the library, half angry at Remus for not answering any of his texts since their disastrous lunch, half filled with a gnawing worry that the librarian was still seriously upset about the encounter with Snape. Whatever was going on with Remus, Sirius just wanted a truthful answer; even a "Fuck you," or "Leave me alone," anything other than the brittle words Remus had left him with. Unfortunately, the person behind the library's desk was one of the last faces he wanted to see.

Ms. Pince turned around and fixed her unnerving gaze on Sirius. "Yes?" she said sharply. "What do you want?"

Sirius sighed internally and tried to put on his most winning smile. "Ms. Pince, how lovely it is to see you out in the light again! You really do have a wonderful apprentice in Mr. Lupin, if I may say. And where is Mr. Lupin, Ms. Pince?"

Pince's nostrils flared and her lips flattened into a thin, disapproving line (though Sirius wasn't entirely sure what it was exactly that Pince was disapproving about) then exhaled loudly through her nose. Sirius could just _see_ smoke rising in columns and furls from her nostrils, a mental image he had had long ago and which had first cemented the (secret) nickname of Pince's, "Dragon."

Finally, Pince said reluctantly, "Mr. Lupin had to leave early. I believe he wasn't feeling well."

Sirius' heart sank. Frustration and sadness bristled at each other in his chest, feeling both in equal measure. He muttered a thanks to Pince, dropping the witty-handsome-gentleman-act immediately, and slumped out of the library.

Sirius shuffled back to his classroom, hands in his pockets, buffeted by the constant and ever-changing lines of students walking in front of, behind, and around him. Suddenly, frustration won out inside him, and Sirius felt half-mad with the feeling. Remus was much too intelligent to be hurt by whatever came out of Severus "Cro-magnon" Snape's mouth, and even though Snape's choice of barb, "infected," had been cruel, it had also been surprisingly vague to Sirius. Snape preferred shooting down his colleagues with only the most personal of attacks. But, "infected"? Like, Remus was going to catch "the gay" by being friends with Sirius? That just sounded like Snape had scraped the bottom of the barrel when it came Remus' turn for some good old-fashioned bullying. But it wasn't just that which made Sirius feel twitchy with frustration, no, it was much more than that . . .

As he opened the door to his classroom, Sirius had only expected it to be empty of students so that he could grade and brood in peace. Technically, his room _was_ empty of students, but the Headmaster himself was occupying the room. Dumbledore was peering at the students' art around the room; some were completed pieces from years past, others were half-done projects from this year's batch. Dumbledore was examining a relic from Bill Weasley, toying with his beard and murmuring to himself.

Not that Sirius had asked for his day to get any weirder, but it seemed like that's what was happening. He cleared his throat, and Dumbledore turned around.

"Ah, Sirius!" He beamed. "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon, Headmaster," Sirius inclined his head, then crossed over to his desk, where a stack of experimental sketches from the freshmen waited to be graded. "What can I do you for?"

"I might ask you the same question, Sirius," Dumbledore said concernedly, looking at Sirius over the top of his half-moon spectacles, which immediately brought Sirius back to his freshman year, sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk, waiting to be punished for shoving Snape's head down a toilet.

Dumbledore continued. "I heard about the incident in the staff room today," he played with the bird-drinker toy on Sirius' desk as he talked. Sirius opened his mouth to ask who the hell had ratted on them, when Dumbledore said, "Hagrid was worried about the repercussions of some unwarranted comments from Mr. Snape towards you, Remus Lupin, and Hagrid himself." Still ducking the little bird's head so he could "drink" the water, Dumbledore flicked his eyes up to Sirius', waiting. Sirius sighed and dug his hands into his hair.

"Snape's not in any danger from me," he mumbled. "I was honestly more angry at what he said to Remus—er, Lupin."

Dumbledore contentedly watched the bird dip towards the water again, giving Sirius an excuse not to look at him. "Hagrid did not specify what words were said."

Sirius exhaled hard out of his mouth and disentangled his hands from his long hair. "Ah, the usual shit—stuff, Headmaster. I'm a dirty queer, Hagrid's stupid; but he told Lupin he was "'infected.'"

Dumbledore's eyes suddenly met Sirius', his blue gaze sharp and keen. "'Infected,' you say?" The silence after he spoke was very dense, and Sirius had the impression that Dumbledore was doing some very fast thinking, making lightning-quick processing that Sirius was at a complete loss to even guess at. It was like he'd started reading a book but skipped the entire first act, starting the second feeling very confused about the rising conflict.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah," he said unnecessarily.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Was anyone else in the staff lounge when Severus said this?"

"Uh, yeah. Firenze was eating lunch. I think he was reading."

"He did not comment on the proceedings?"

"No, it didn't even look like he was paying attention to us."

"I see," Dumbledore murmured. He paused, thoughtful, then asked, "Could Hagrid or Lupin confirm what Severus said?"

Righteous anger flared in Sirius' chest momentarily— _what, he doesn't fucking believe me?_ —but quickly stifled it; losing his temper around Dumbledore would only decrease his credibility. "I believe so, sir."    

Dumbledore nodded, and took to staring at the drinking bird again in contemplative silence. Sirius surprised himself by saying, "Sir, Remus—Lupin—he left early today. And he hasn't answered any of my, er, texts." Too late he realized that he wasn't _technically_ supposed to text during school hours except for during lunch, but hoped that Dumbledore would gloss over that fact for now.

Dumbledore nodded again. "I am aware. He came to see me before he left to make sure he had permission."

"Oh." Sirius felt oddly deflated. Anxiety for Remus was still gnawing at him, which just added to his already-sizable frustration. _When the hell did I become so soft, worrying about everything at the drop of a hat?_ Maybe it was another sign that he was actually growing old; there was a serious chance that this was Sirius' mid-life crisis.

Dumbledore met Sirius' eyes again, looking somewhat grave. "Are you concerned about the effect Severus' words had on Mr. Lupin?"

Sirius nodded, slightly uncomfortable. Remus was his friend, and he certainly wasn't ashamed of that fact, but Sirius tended to get angry on behalf of his friends, not this twittering with worry like an old lady, and that did discomfit him.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly at Sirius, seeming to measure him. After several seconds of silence, he said, "I would not worry overly much about Remus, Sirius. You are doing what you can as a concerned friend, and it is up to the other party to decide to utilize your help. Additionally, Remus gave no indication of resigning, so I'm confident that he will be back."

 _Resigning?_ "Why would he resign?" Sirius said, the words out in the air before he could even consider whether it was appropriate to ask.

Another level, penetrating stare from Dumbledore. Then, "You will see Remus on Monday, I'm sure. Have a good weekend, Sirius." With that, Dumbledore dipped the drinking bird one more time, chuckled quietly to himself, and left Sirius in a stew of confusion and concern, alone in his art room.

  


All the control Sirius had shown throughout the school day, how he had kept his temper in check in front of Remus and the Headmaster, as well as the sheer fact that Snape was able to leave the school building under his own power and with all of his normal limbs attached; all of this was a testament to how Sirius had aged and matured since his youth, how he could deal with his rage in a healthy, productive manner.

So to make up for all that maturity, Sirius had been roundly abusing Snape with Lily and James and all their old acquaintances: whisky, scotch, rum, and mead.

"He's _so_ —" Sirius slurred slightly, an hour and many drinks in, making a vague strangling motion with his hands. " _God_ , I don't know _why_ Dumbledore keeps him on."

"That's a fair question," Lily frowned over her drink. She was still in her scrubs, having just come from her shift at the hospital before Sirius had burst through their door. Now that Sirius had (mostly) wound down, she and James finally had chances to speak. "Why _wouldn't_ Dumbledore fire Snape?"

Sirius slumped suddenly, drained of anger, and he flopped onto the nearest armchair. "I don't know," he said gloomily, taking a sip of his scotch. "He should be punished at the very least, for Remus' sake if not mine . . . "

"What exactly did Snape say to Remus?" James asked curiously. "It was hard to discern amongst all the curse words you were throwing around."

Sirius grunted, and storm clouds started to crowd on his face again. "Snape called him 'infected,'" Sirius spat. "Disgusting twat just _had_ to taunt Remus because he was new . . . "

"Infected?" Lily interrupted Sirius before another tantrum could brew. "Is Remus disabled, could that be what he was referring to?"

"No," Sirius replied. "He walks around and stuff, does everything fine."

"That doesn't mean he isn't disabled," Lily corrected gently. "Not all disabilities are visible."

"Yeah, you're right," Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "God, I don't care if Remus is disabled, I just wish that he wasn't so upset by it."

"Why didn't you bring him over for drinks and encouragement?" James asked.

"He isn't _answering_ me!" Sirius sat up, suddenly looking alert and agitated, leg bouncing furiously. James and Lily shared a quick look of concern. "He practically ran off after lunch, he isn't answering any of my texts, and when I tried the library he wasn't there! But Dumbledore said he would be back on Monday, so maybe I can catch him then," Sirius muttered the last comment seemingly to himself.

"You went to Dumbledore about this?" Lily asked, surprised.

"Not exactly," Sirius said, and explained his odd conversation with the headmaster. Both Lily and James frowned.

"Sounds like Dumbledore's being mysterious just for the sake of it, nothing new there," James decided, as he got up to refill his mead. "Sirius, want a top-off?"

"Sure," Sirius said as Lily said, "No!" The two friends looked at each other, then Lily sighed. "Why don't you switch to mead at least, Sirius. Somebody has to look out for your liver."

Sirius nodded at James, and the latter disappeared into the kitchen. Sirius leaned back in his armchair, silent and moody again. Lily studied him. "Why are you so worried about Remus, Sirius?" she asked quietly. "He's an adult, you don't need to beat yourself up about this."

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, playing with his glass. Lily was suddenly forcibly reminded of Sirius as she first knew him nearly 25 years ago; careless, reckless, and charming, with a bright grin and a loud laugh, paired with a hot temper and a tendency to brood when things weren't going his way. Sirius, in some respects, was still very much the same—which meant that Lily could still read him with ease.

After a couple more seconds of silence, Sirius said absently, "Remus is my friend." Lily nodded.

Sirius' hands slowed as they continued to fiddle with his glass, before murmuring, "I don't want to see him get hurt."

A sudden insight crashed over Lily, and she stared at Sirius, surprised and intrigued. "Sirius—are you and Remus—do you have—?"

"Mead delivery!" James shouted as he returned to the living room, handing Sirius a glass of mead before taking a seat with his own drink. Lily sighed, but continued looking intently at Sirius, who downed the rest of his scotch and began working on his mead. James looked from his wife to his best friend. "What, what'd I miss?"

Sirius looked up to finally notice Lily's gaze. "What?" he said petulantly. "I'm a fucking adult, Lily, I can drink whatever I want."

"It's not that, Sirius," Lily said neutrally. "Just—" she shook her head, and when she spoke again her tone was lighter. "I just think it's sweet how much you care for Remus. You've bonded with him, and I think if you stick by him, he'll be fine. This whole thing will blow over."

Sirius studied Lily for a moment, then nodded once he was sure she wouldn't start lecturing. The three drank quietly together, saying little, for another half hour, before Sirius decided to turn in. Both Lily and James gave him hugs, and Sirius was embarrassed to find that his eyes were misting up by the time he walked out the door. Luckily, the night air was bracing enough to allow Sirius to convince himself that the tears were just because of the wind; all the same, he focused hard on what he was doing, walking across the street to his dark house, changing and brushing his teeth, purposely not thinking about anything at all until he climbed into his cold bed and let himself rest.

  


_Sirius sighed and stretched his arms above his head, eyes still closed. He wasn't entirely sure why he woke up until he registered cool, gentle touches along his bare skin below the covers. Sirius smiled, and sighed again in pleasure. Hands were lovingly tracing his ribs, thumbs synchronously filling the slight hollows made by the bones. Sirius relaxed, resting his arms above his pillow as the hands moved up his chest, and soft kisses peppered his stomach. The fingers started gently tweaking his nipples, and Sirius gave a small gasp. He stretched up slightly to encourage the touches, his half-hard cock starting to stiffen further as the fingers pinched his hardening nipples. More kisses, wetter now, were placed on his ribs, abdomen, stomach. The hands moved away from his nipples, and Sirius mewled slightly as the teasing stopped. Now a tongue was being traced from his belly button to the top of his boxer briefs; Sirius could feel the other's body hovering just above his cock, their body heat ghosting over his skin, and he moaned and squirmed in an attempt to create some friction. The other moved, though, and Sirius growled in frustration. Obligingly, his underwear was slipped down over his hips, down to his knees, and almost immediately Sirius felt his cock be completely enveloped by warm, wet heat, and he moaned. He could feel the flat of their tongue running up and down the underside of his shaft as one hand wrapped around the base, running up and down his cock in tandem with their mouth, adding friction to the heat. Sirius groaned, barely keeping his hips from squirming, and threaded his fingers through the fine hair on top of their head, guiding, so their mouth and hand started pumping faster. Sirius' breath was coming in short pants, his whole body felt overheated, and he though he could hear all the embarrassing moans and whimpers that were coming from his mouth, Sirius found he really couldn't give a fuck. Still using their mouth and hand to fuck Sirius' cock, their other hand found Sirius' balls, and started gently massaging, pulling the skin taut over his testicles before taking both in their hand and squeezing lightly. Sirius gasped and tugged on their hair in warning as he felt a tightness in his lower abdomen, but they kept on, their mouth and hand firmly pumping Sirius, until he came in hot, furious bursts. Sirius shouted, and the other continued pumping, slowing more after each pulsation. They let their mouth linger a moment on Sirius' cock before delicately pulling off, causing Sirius to hiss at even the slightest friction on his still-sensitive cock. He felt the other moving under the covers, and he pulled back the top corner by him as an invitation; smiling, Remus Lupin crawled out from under the duvet, face flushed and shining. Sirius grinned lazily and pulled Remus to his chest before cradling his head and guiding him into a kiss. Sirius could still taste his semen, hot and salty, and he murmured in approval. Sirius pulled back just slightly, so he could look into his lover's eyes. "Tell me what you want," he—_

Sirius jolted awake to a sitting position, drenched in sweat and panting slightly. He whipped his head around in confusion, taking in the still-dark room, his empty bed, and finally himself. Sirius threw back the covers, desperate for some cool air, and swore when he realized and finally registered the huge wet patch inside his boxers. He got out of bed gingerly, quickly shedding his pajama pants before grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and going into the bathroom. He cleaned himself, head so fuzzy with sleep, booze, and his post-orgasm high that he didn't even feel embarrassed, just confused and frustrated.

He quickly changed into his clean boxers, then braced both palms flat onto the bathroom counter, looking at his reflection. Sirius' heart was pounding a hard pace in his ribcage, and his face and chest were flushed, hair in complete disarray. In short, he looked well and freshly fucked, which conveniently doubled as how Sirius felt. He couldn't ignore it any longer.

He had feelings for Remus Lupin.

_Shit._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this might be my longest chapter yet! And never fear, gentle readers, this fic has not been abandoned; it's just very long and I get easily distracted by life stuff. :)

Sirius started the first Monday in October feeling cautious, but in a hell of a lot better condition than the state he'd been in during the weekend; Sunday had been a haze of hangover symptoms and confusing, irritatingly persistent daydreams relating to Remus Lupin, following Saturday night's revelatory dream.

Remus still hadn't responded to any of his texts (though Sirius had limited himself to only four; not too much given the amount of texting that normally took place between them, but just enough that Sirius hoped would communicate to Remus that he cared), so Sirius wasn't sure what to expect when he walked into the library during his free period; would Remus have even come into work today? Did he pack up and leave over the weekend without a word? Only Dumbledore's promise of Remus' continued employment, in addition to the rational parts of Sirius' mind, kept him from worrying that he'd lost his chance with the librarian before he'd even really tried.

Stepping into the Hogwarts library, Sirius was saved from his worries by two facts: 1) Remus Lupin was behind the library main desk, and 2) he was wearing glasses, horn-rim tortoiseshell ones, which were so endearingly adorable that Sirius was completely thrown off guard, and all anxieties flew out of his head.

As usual, Remus' head was bent over a book; he was leaning on the desk, elbows braced on the surface, hair falling across his forehead. Sirius took a breath and stepped up to the desk, rapping his knuckles lightly against the wood to alert Remus.

"Hey," Sirius said quietly. Remus looked up, and when he saw the art teacher he bit his lip.

"Hello." Remus carefully slipped his bookmark into his place and straightened up. His face was guarded and blank, and after several seconds of silence Sirius leaned on the desk, mirroring the position Remus had been in moments before, and began the speech that he'd been mentally preparing since Sunday.

"Look, Remus, I don't know what exactly happened on Friday, like what was going through your head, but I hope you know that you can talk about it with me. Or not. I'm not here to pry, but I am here. So . . . you can tell me about it, or we can leave it alone and instead you can confide in me your secret to reading so fucking fast." Sirius pointed to the book Remus had been reading.

Remus' previously still-as-stone face softened at the last comment and one corner of his mouth turned up. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then said softly, "Thank you, Sirius. And if you knew me at all, you would know that I swore on my great-grandfather's grave that I would never reveal the secret of our speed-reading to anyone who wasn't about to relieve my title. I hope you understand."

Sirius nodded gravely, then cracked and barked a laugh. "Well, figured it was worth a shot. Got any work for a poor restless art teacher?"

 

After shelving a cart of books, and noticing how deserted the library was, Sirius asked Remus if he was down for an early lunch. Remus checked his watch.

"Well, I could eat. Here, or in your room?"

Sirius pretended to think. "Hmm, those are both tempting, but I was thinking something more . . . atmospheric."

Remus' mouth quirked and he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Such as?"

Sirius grinned. "Ever been to a little hole in the wall called the Hog's Head?"

Remus shook his head cautiously, causing Sirius' grin to grow wider. "It's excellent, I'll vouch for it. Though it would require riding my bike to get there."

Remus sighed, but he looked amused. "This is something I'm going to have to get used to, isn't it?"

One hair-whippingly fast ride later, Sirius helped Remus unlock his stiffened limbs (firmly not letting his mind linger on how tightly Remus had been holding Sirius, how the other man's chest seemed to perfectly meld into Sirius' back), teasing Remus on how quickly and severely cold his hands had gotten ("You need, like, Arctic-explorer gloves. The tough, heavy-duty kind, good Christ.").

As they stepped into the pub, Sirius realized that the Hog's Head was his equivalent to Flourish and Blotts for Remus; a place where he felt at home, where he could go to unwind while still fulfilling his need for socialization. Sirius was suddenly anxious that Remus like it, and winced at the Hog's Head "atmosphere" he had promised: stuffing spilling out of the bar stools, dim lighting, the sticky floor, and some of the gruff-looking regulars at tables in the back. Sirius hoped that first impressions didn't count much for Remus.

"Is this a bar?" Remus asked curiously.

" _And_ a grill," Sirius said, slightly defensive. "Normally I'd advise against any food that's usually only served alongside metric tons of booze, but you can trust this place. Now," Sirius gestured grandly around the small, somewhat dirty room. "Bar? Or shall we spring for a booth?"

Remus smiled wryly and resettled his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "This is your tour, so I'll let you guide me."

"Excellent, bar it is then!" Sirius said happily. He led Remus to some stools near the end of the bar, bowing the librarian onto a stool before taking his own. Just as Sirius sat, a very pretty woman around their age emerged from a back room.

"Sirius!" she said warmly, maneuvering around the bar to give Sirius a hug. "I thought I heard your voice. Where have you been, I haven't seen you in weeks!"

"Sorry, m'dear, I'm afraid I was captivated by my lovely new friend here," Sirius said, indicating Remus. Sirius' brain was warning him that he was starting to fall into flirt mode with Remus, but he was in such a good mood that he decided not to let himself overthink. "Rosmerta, this is Remus, he just started working at Hogwarts. Remus, this is Ms. Rosmerta, she's been serving here as long as I've been patronizing this place."

Rosmerta turned a beatific smile onto Remus. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Likewise," Remus replied, shaking her hand. "Sirius has promised great things from this place, so I'm sure I'll love it."

"Ooh, you're a charmer, aren't you!" Rosmerta laughed. "Aberforth does most of the cooking, he's the owner, but I'm not too modest to say I'm quite the mixologist. Speaking of which, you lads fancy a drink?"

"Just a pint, Rose, I do have to teach still today. We'll come back some evening to try some of Rosie's drinks," Sirius added to Remus. "It's a wild experience, you can't miss it."

"I'll make sure not to, then." Remus said, and Sirius' heart flipped in his chest when the other man smiled.

"I'd just like some water, please," Remus told Rosmerta, and she nodded and left. Sirius picked up a menu from the bar and handed it to Remus. "Everything is good here, though the pulled pork sandwich is my favorite." He sighed and patted his stomach dreamily, and Remus laughed.

After carefully perusing the menu, Remus said, "This steamed cauliflower and goat cheese soup sounds good."

"Sure, it sounds . . . interesting," Sirius encouraged, and Remus chuckled when he saw Sirius' wrinkled nose.

"Too vegetarian for your taste?"

"Eh, I just think cauliflower is a useless vegetable. It's like, a worse broccoli."

"You must've been the type of child who fed your vegetables to the dog," Remus mused.

"I definitely would've, if my mother had allowed pets." Sirius paused. "I think I'd like a dog." He wasn't sure where that thought had come from.

Remus nodded. "I can see you as a dog owner. Some energetic mutt to keep up with you."

Remus' response unexpectedly tickled Sirius, and he laughed aloud. "You do, eh? That's interesting."

Rosmerta came by with their drinks and took their orders. Remus frowned after her as she left. "I know for sure I've never been here before, but she seems very familiar."

"Have you ever been to the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yes," Remus paused. Then, "Ah! She works there too?"

"Yep," Sirius answered. "Days there, nights here, though she's started to take more days and afternoons at the Hog's Head. Probably because I come here," Sirius preened, and he was pleased when Remus laughed (making that the third laugh Sirius had earned in as many minutes; not that he was counting).

"You're here often, then?" Remus asked, still smiling.

Sirius nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "I come here a lot with Jamie—James Potter, you remembering me mentioning him?" When Remus said yes, Sirius continued, "This is one of our favorite haunts—though he hasn't come with me in a while. You know, he's got his wife and Harry, along with his job, so." Sirius stopped abruptly and took another swig of beer. The curtain of melancholy that seemed to permanently live above his head started to drift down, as he realized he hadn't had a night out with just James in months.

"Where does he work?" Remus' quiet voice dispelled the gloom, and Sirius shook himself mentally; he was here with Remus, and he should focus on that. _And focus on not fucking this up_ , a little voice in Sirius' head added, and, ignoring the implications of what followed that thought and how it made his stomach flutter, Sirius answered, "He's a lawyer. Works for a defense office downtown. It's a great place, all of his co-workers are amazing people."

Remus looked impressed. "That's a tough job. Lots of work with very little recognition."

"Yeah, that's James," Sirius agreed. "He's always sympathized with the underdog, and with the less fortunate. His parents came from wealth, so James never wanted for anything. Didn't go to his head, though. At least," Sirius grimaced. "Not as an adult, it hasn't. He had a pretty inflated ego as a kid. So did, I come to think of it." Sirius shook his head ruefully. "'S probably why we were friends. Nobody else could stand to hang out with us, we were so insufferable."

Remus' eyebrows raised above the rims of his glasses, and he took a slow, measured sip of his water. Sirius tried not to let himself get distracted by the way Remus' lips formed around the edge of the glass; it didn't work. _God, this is like being fifteen again_ , he thought.

"Were you and James troublemakers?" Remus' voice brought Sirius back again, and he grinned.

"Oh, hell yes," Sirius replied. "The pranks were constant. We saw the inside of Dumbledore's office more than our actual classrooms. It got even worse when I moved in with the Potters, Jamie and I could plot our next moves through the night." Sirius chuckled, but Remus just stared at him for several beats; Sirius' face warmed, and to cover his awkwardness he added, "I'm shocked Dumbledore hired me, honestly, given what an asshole I was as a kid."

Remus' face relaxed and his eyes moved from the other man's face; he laughed softly, "All teenagers are assholes."

"Not you," Sirius argued automatically, and his face grew hot again when Remus quirked a challenging eyebrow at him.

"Oh? What makes me so special?" Remus' voice was light, but he was staring at Sirius very intently again.

_Your kindness. Your intelligence. How easy it is to be around you. How I feel cold when you're not near. Your eyes. Your voice._ Sirius tightened his jaw so he wouldn't say anything he was thinking, and was still scrambling for an appropriate answer when he was saved by Rosmerta bearing their steaming-hot food on a tray.

"Here's your sandwich, Sirius, and soup for Mr. Lupin," Rosmerta said warmly, depositing their dishes with a flourish. She pulled a jug from seemingly nowhere and deftly refilled Remus' water glass. Sirius hadn't realized how far he'd been leaning towards Remus over the course of their conversation, and he sat up straight again.

"Thanks, Rosie," he smiled at Rosmerta easily.

"No problem," she returned the smile right to him. "Call me over if you need anything."

She sashayed away to tend to the customers at the back, and Sirius and Remus turned to their food. The food smelled delicious, and Sirius was thankful for the reprieve it gave him from talking; he needed a minute to clear his head.

Remus was carefully blowing on his his soup as Sirius began eating (this, plus the glasses and the incredibly thick and soft-looking cardigan Remus was wearing made him look so adorable that Sirius had to duck his head to hide a smile), but Sirius could tell when he'd tasted it, as Remus made a surprised, soft yet audible noise.

Sirius looked at him; Remus was chewing some of the cauliflower, and looking at his bowl of soup with new respect. "Pretty good, eh?" Sirius asked, letting his smile spread wide.

Remus nodded emphatically, swallowing the last of his mouthful. He then looked to Sirius with a small smile. "You were right about this food. I shan't doubt you again."

"See that you don't," Sirius warned teasingly, and took a large bite of his sandwich.

The two men ate in silence for the next few minutes, but Sirius didn't feel awkward. He and James did this often; sitting together each lost to his own work or reading, comfortable in each other's presence. It was easy, just like with Remus now. So of course, Sirius had to ruin it.

"Erm . . . so about that thing we weren't going to talk about . . . " Sirius felt Remus go very still beside him, but all he said was, "Yes?"

"Well," Sirius continued carefully, "I just want to know if he—if Snape—is going to be . . .  punished. Do you know?"

Remus stirred his soup slowly, not looking at Sirius. After a minute of silence which frayed Sirius' nerves considerably, Remus said quietly, "I had a meeting with Dumbledore—and Snape, today. Before classes started." He paused. Sirius didn't move. He went on, "Snape apologized, and Dumbledore told him it couldn't happen again. I believe they continued talking after I left."

Sirius locked his jaw to keep from screaming. He knew that Dumbledore always chose to see the good in people and give out second chances like candy, and that was admirable; it was why Hagrid had a position at Hogwarts despite having troubles in college, and possibly why Sirius himself had been hired (Sirius wasn't about to admit this to Remus, not when he so desperately wanted the librarian to think well of him, but he had definitely seen the inside of a jail cell). But then there were people like Snivellus, who Dumbledore insisted on forgiving and allowing to run amok, causing pain and heartache.

And now he had hurt Remus, with nothing but a slap on the wrist to show for it.

Sirius tamped down his fury; going on a profanity-laced rant might make _him_ feel better, but it wouldn't help Remus. He breathed in hard through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. _Okay. Be supportive here, Sirius._

"That's . . . not fair," Sirius said in a slightly strangled voice.

Remus turned to face Sirius for the first time in minutes, surprising the other man with a smile.

"No, I suppose it's not," Remus said softly. "But then, much of life isn't."

His tawny eyes looked so sad, it broke Sirius' heart. A rush of self-loathing washed over him.

"Sorry," Sirius muttered. "I said you didn't have to talk about it, and I brought it up . . . "

Remus shrugged, carefully bringing another spoonful of soup to his mouth. After swallowing, he said, "I appreciate your interest. And your indignation on my behalf," he finished wryly.

Sirius appraised Remus' face cautiously. Maybe he hadn't screwed up too much; Remus was looking right back at him, eyes still heavy with melancholy, but with a smile just for Sirius. Sirius smiled back, his heart lightening.

The two went back to eating, heaping well-earned praise on the food when Rosmerta swung by to check on them. Remus and Sirius talked about books, discussing _Never Let Me Go_ , which Sirius had almost finished, and their personal favorites. They paid (Sirius thought about covering Remus' bill, but the other man took his check so quickly that he didn't have a chance), and rode back to the school. It wasn't until they had come to the hallway where they had to part ways that Sirius remembered something.

"Oh! Remus," Sirius exclaimed; Remus turned to him, and the other man continued, "Harry's first rugby game of the season is on Thursday, are you going?"

Remus considered this, tilting his head at Sirius. "I hadn't thought about it, but that could be fun. What time does it start?"

"Six," Sirius grinned. His stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies of excitement. "You can meet James and Lily! And Harry too, I suppose he hasn't been in the library much."

Remus smiled back. "I'd love to." There was a _bzzz_ from Remus' bag, and Sirius was forcibly reminded of Friday; they'd been in this same spot in the deserted hallway, right after that disastrous lunch in the staff room, when the weird box Remus carried had buzzed. Sirius dispelled the thought. Things were better now, and he could ask Remus about the box later.

Remus pulled said box out of his bag and pushed a button on it. "I better get back to the library," he said to Sirius.

"Right," Sirius replied. Neither moved for several moments until Sirius said "Right," again, and he and Remus nodded at each other and went their separate ways.


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you staying after _again_?"

Harry blinked and focused on Ron; his friend was staring at him, frowning slightly, hair still plastered to his sweaty forehead as a result of their intense practice.

"Er, yeah, I think," Harry said finally, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. There wasn't much point in showering since he'd need another one after his run tonight, but old habits persisted.

"Aren't you exhausted?" Ron looked slightly alarmed. "We've got a game tomorrow, you shouldn't tire yourself out."

"It's not like I always run," Harry argued. "Sometimes I just walk, or do homework in the stands." The reasoning sounded weak even to his ears, and Harry understood the skeptical look on Ron's face. After all, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had been hanging out together after school on a regular basis for years, but recently Harry had been skipping most of their hangouts in favor of—well, Harry wasn't about to tell Ron the real reason he stayed at the school well after rugby practice.

Harry shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. "I mean, it's senior year—sometimes I just like walking by myself, to clear my head."

Ron looked at Harry closely, and Harry tried to keep his expression casual, even as his cheeks burned.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked carefully. "You've been a bit—off, lately."

Harry intensely focused on rummaging through his locker for his clothes. "Just—thinking about the future. It weirds me out a bit. Doesn't seem real, y'know?"

If he had said this to Hermione, she would have cast Harry a shrewd look and continued pushing; but Ron stared at Harry for another couple seconds, then merely inclined his head in a gesture of, "if you say so," and headed to the showers. Harry gave his hair one final toweling, then finished changing. He was glad Ron hadn't asked him how he would be getting home without carpooling with him and Hermione, because then Harry would have to lie again. He'd told his parents that he was staying out later with his friends on the nights he ran at the track, and that Ron and Hermione gave him rides home.

But that was a lie.

At first, he'd taken the bus home after running with Malfoy, but then—

—it had been raining that night, pelting hard drops after threatening to do so for hours as Harry and Malfoy ran their final lap around the track.

Usually they parted ways in the parking lot with silent nods of acknowledgment, and Harry wouldn't see Malfoy until school the next day, but that night, maybe due to pity, maybe because the September chill made the rain cold and unforgiving, or maybe for another reason Harry didn't want to dwell on, but as he waited, shivering, at the bus stop, Malfoy had pulled up beside him and shouted, "Get in," through the open window. Harry had clambered into the car before doubt could make him hesitate, muttering "Thanks," without meeting Malfoy's eyes as he buckled up his seat belt.

The ride had been silent and tense; Harry kept his eyes fixed on the windshield in front of him, watching the patterns the raindrops formed before being wiped away. At one point, they stopped at an intersection, and though the way was clear, Malfoy didn't continue. Harry turned, puzzled, to find Malfoy staring at him expectantly. Harry silently panicked; did Malfoy want him out of the car? Was he going to confide in Harry again? What should he—

"I don't know where you live, Potter," Malfoy said with a touch of his usual drawl and a sardonically arched eyebrow.

Harry's face burned with embarrassment. "Turn right here," he mumbled, returning his eyes to the road, but not before he saw Malfoy smirk slightly. Harry gave directions until they reached his house, where Malfoy dropped him off without lingering.

After their next run a few days later, as they walked through the parking lot, Malfoy had paused and half-turned away from Harry, keys in his hand, before saying, "Are you coming?" Since then Malfoy had always given Harry a ride home (dropping him off a block away from the Potter household).

They rarely said anything; usually just, "Thanks," and "See you Potter." And Harry didn't expect tonight to be any different, didn't think his and Malfoy's mutual wall of silence would be broken.

Until he fucked it up.

At the start of their run that night, less than an hour after Harry had reassured Ron in the locker room, Harry had been getting nervous about their upcoming game, and he was grateful for the run to distract him. But then his thoughts had started wandering, and he started pondering why Malfoy had left the rugby team; he obviously had excess energy that he needed to burn off, and despite the fistfights Malfoy and Ron had gotten into (or more accurately, the fights Crabbe, Goyle, and Ron had gotten into), Malfoy did show talent on the field. Practices may have been calmer and more productive since Malfoy had quit at the beginning of the year, but Harry still couldn't help but feel that they had lost something.

Which is probably what prompted Harry to actually converse with Malfoy as they drove away from the school.

"Why did you quit?" he blurted only a minute after they had exited the parking lot. Malfoy didn't move, and Harry wasn't even sure he had registered the question until the other boy started speaking.

"Why do you care?"

Harry hesitated. He actually wasn't too sure of that himself. "You've played for years, but give up during senior year? Doesn't seem like you."

Malfoy snorted, turning his head quickly to check traffic behind him before changing lanes. Harry noticed dark purple shadows under his eyes. "And how would you know what's 'like me', Potter?"

The listlessness of Malfoy's moody non-answers irked Harry. Draco Malfoy may be many things, including a pompous asshole, but he wasn't passive. At least he didn't used to be.

"I guess I wouldn't," Harry snapped. "I just didn't think you would give up on something you liked and were actually decent at."

There was a moment of silence. "Guess you were wrong, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, which only further irritated Harry, but he didn't know how to respond. It wasn't like he had bonded much with Malfoy over the years; he supposed he couldn't claim to know him intimately. Not content with leaving things alone, however, Harry said, "Are you coming to the game tomorrow?"

For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed Malfoy's face. "What's it matter to you?"

"Why _doesn't_ it matter to you?" Harry argued. He felt itchy and oddly frustrated. "You have never let me forget how you've been playing rugby since childhood, how you'd had lessons with professionals and always showed off your top-of-the-line equipment; rugby's _always_ mattered to you, so why do you not give a fuck all of a sudden?"

"I've grown up, Potter, can't that be a reason," Malfoy said; his voice was taut with annoyance. "Maybe I don't feel like participating in some silly game with a sillier rivalry anymore."

"Bullshit," Harry said bluntly.

Malfoy's jaw clenched. He didn't answer, and Harry fumed in the quiet. Logically, he knew that Malfoy didn't owe him an explanation, and Harry wasn't even sure why he was pushing the other boy so hard, or why Malfoy's passivity was frustrating him so much.

Neither of them said anything for a few blocks. They were nearing Harry's house, and Harry irrationally didn't want to leave the car, but again he was at a loss for words. He glanced at Malfoy; the other was staring intensely at the road ahead, but his gaze seemed far away.

Too soon they pulled up to the usual drop-off point, a block away from Harry's. Harry defied their usual routine and didn't immediately leave the car, however; he didn't know what he wanted to do or say, but Harry knew he didn't want to leave yet. For lack of any idea of what to do next, Harry looked at Malfoy, and the other boy met his gaze for the first time all day. Malfoy's grey eyes were tired and sad; the uncharacteristic expression shocked Harry. Malfoy closed his eyes briefly, then took to staring out the windshield again. Harry knew he was dismissed, and he fumbled his way out of the car without a word. He heard the car driving away as he started walking.

He let himself into the Potter house, and only stopped in the kitchen to get himself a plate of dinner his father had left out before going up to his room. He ate without tasting, mind still on the car ride with Malfoy. When he finished eating, Harry just sat on his bed for some time, not quite sure what to do with himself.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF IT'S A DOOZY. Not in steaminess, but definitely my longest chapter yet. :)
> 
> Coupla things:
> 
> 1) A lovely reader asked if this was supposed to take place in England, since I've been using rather interchangeable terminology. Since the answer is relevant to y'all, I'm saying that yes, it's supposed to take place in England, but this isn't Brit-picked and since I'm having trouble updating even once a month, it's not a real priority for me. If it bothers you, I'm sorry. If it bothers you and you'd like to volunteer to Brit-pick, let me know. :)
> 
> 2) As previously mentioned, I'm bad at updating. This is the last time I'm going to say this, because it's repetitive, but: I am very, very incapable of updating regularly. I *wish* I was one of those writers who was like "next chapter's up in exactly four days!". I severely envy those people. But alas, I am plagued with lethargy and writer's block and Life Events often, so updates will be sporadic at best. BUT, and this is the important part, I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS FIC. I am being annoyingly caps-lock about it because this is the last time I'll mention this. I may be slow as fuck, but I'm loyal. I know where this story is going, and I want to see it through. Don't give up hope. :)
> 
> Right. I've kept you long enough. On with the show!

Sirius drummed his fingers on the desk to get Remus' attention. The librarian looked up from his book at the noise and smiled at Sirius. 

"You still coming to the rugby game tonight?" Sirius asked cheerily. 

"Yes, if I'm still invited," Remus replied, still smiling.

"'Course you are! Now, the game starts at six, but James, Lily, and I usually get here round 5:30 to get good spots. Want to meet us on the field then?"

"That sounds perfect." Remus' face was made soft and warm by his smile, his hazel eyes crinkling, and it made Sirius' chest swell with happiness; he couldn't do anything but grin at the other man for several seconds. Only when Remus' smile started to falter slightly did Sirius realize that he was staring like a love-struck dope (which he very much was), and he scrambled to recover. "So, ah, lunch?"

 

Sirius couldn't stop bouncing his leg as he, James, and Lily drove towards the school in James' Prius (it made no sense for Sirius to take his bike separately to the same place, which was the only reason he was allowing himself to be seen in James' dinky car).

"Sirius, d'you mind?" Lily's voice came from the passenger seat in front of Sirius. 

"Sorry," Sirius said distractedly, and forced his leg to still whilst checking his phone for messages. There wasn't much reason for Remus to text him, but that hadn't stopped Sirius from checking his phone every other minute since he had gotten back from the school.

"You alright back there?" James asked amusedly. 

"Fine," huffed Sirius, smoothing his hair back self-consciously.  _ Maybe I should get this cut soon _ , he thought as he fiddled with the ends, frowning. When was the last time he had gotten a haircut? 

"We're looking forward to  finally meeting Remus," Lily offered, but Sirius only responded with a mumbled, "Yeah." He knew he was being a bit of a dick, but the combination of excitement and (Sirius would die before he admitted this to James) nerves had him very distracted. Not so distracted, however, that Sirius missed the look Lily and James exchanged; he then heard James ask Lily about her work day, and half-listened to Lily talk about her Alzheimer's patient at the hospital as Sirius absentmindedly pulled his hair up into a small knot on the back of his head.

Sirius practically jumped out of the car as soon as they rolled into a parking spot at the school and texted Remus that they had arrived at the school while James and Lily exited the car. Sirius then lead the way to the rugby field, where a decent-sized crowd of parents, students, and people from the community were already gathered.

A soon as they were in sight of the field, Sirius began searching around for Remus; he had been looking for only a couple seconds when his phone buzzed.  _ Alright. I'm standing by the bleachers on your left side _ . Sirius focused on that area and immediately saw his tall, thin librarian, almost hidden under a thick coat and scarf. Sirius waved to him, and Remus waved back.

"I see him!" Sirius called over his shoulder to Lily and James before increasing his pace to a brisk powerwalk to join Remus. He heard his friends hurrying along behind him.

Sirius grinned at Remus as he drew level with the other man. "Glad you made it."

"Thank you for inviting me," Remus said graciously as the Potters caught up with Sirius.

Sirius made a noise of dismissal, waving away the thought of being so formal with Remus, but then remembered that he had to make introductions.

"Remus, this is my best friend James, and his much,  _ much _ better half, Lily."

Remus shook both their hands, smiling warmly at the pair. 

"It's lovely to finally meet you," Lily said as she greeted Remus. "We've heard a lot about you."

Remus side-eyed Sirius suspiciously. "Really?" Sirius grinned winningly, and Remus shook his head in amusement, allowing a small smile before looking back to Lily. "I've heard much about you two as well. I'm very happy to be here tonight."

"Damn," James said eloquently. "You're so much nicer than, like, any other friend Sirius has ever had." 

Sirius tore his gaze from Remus to glare at James. "Shut the fuck up, Prongs."

"What? It was a  _ compliment _ ."

"Darling, you realize you're lumping yourself in with 'every other friend Sirius has ever had', right?" Lily cut in smoothly before Sirius could retaliate. James frowned and Sirius laughed loudly. 

"HAH. Idiot." 

"Fuck you too, Padfoot." 

"Best friends, huh?" Remus murmured quietly, and Sirius laughed again. 

"It's always like this," Lily said heavily to Remus with a very put-upon expression. "Best to divert their attention before it ramps up. C'mon, let's go sit." 

The four of them walked to the bleachers and started climbing, greeting other parents and acquaintances along the way. About halfway up James found a mostly empty row, and sunk into a low bow, arm extended out, inviting the others to sit. Sirius snorted and filed in, Remus right behind him; Lily brought up the rear, pausing only to ruffle James' messy hair before sitting. James flipped himself upright and followed his wife, looking pleased with himself. Once he sat, James started craning his head around. "I don't see the Weasleys," he said after a minute. He looked down the row at Sirius and added, "But I don't see The Family Blonde either, thankfully."

Sirius blinked, surprised. James must be talking about the Malfoys. Who wouldn't be attending the games because their son had quit the team.  _ Shit _ . Sirius had completely forgotten about the Malfoy boy having feelings for Harry over the shitstorm with Snape. He'd meant to talk to James and Lily about it, see if they knew. Sirius felt a slight pang of guilt, and he stole a glance at Remus. The other man met his gaze, looking politely interested. Sirius realized that Remus probably wouldn't know who James was referring to.

"He's talking about the Malfoys," he explained. "Their boy Draco is in Harry's year, used to be on the team. Started a lot of shit."

"His parents did too," James added grimly. Lily nodded in agreement, lips pursed. "Lucius Malfoy was a couple years ahead of Sirius and I in school, and he was a very slippery fellow, I guess you could say. He caused a lot of trouble but never seemed to get punished for it."

"Still does," Sirius growled. "Lucius works for the DA's office, so he and James clash often."

"Ah," Remus nodded. "And I assume his son shares some of the same traits? That can't be pleasant for Harry."

"It really wasn't," Lily sighed. "Although it seems like Draco has matured a bit this year; he's hardly bothered anyone at all, according to Harry." 

Sirius "mmm"ed in acknowledgment, but decided that now was not the time to bring up Draco's confession; at the very least, he should consider talking to Harry privately first. 

Changing the subject, Sirius said to Remus, "The Weasleys are excellent people. Arthur works with James as a public defender, and their youngest son Ron has been Harry's best friend since they were kids."

Remus looked thoughtful for a minute. "I don't think I've actually met Harry yet." 

" _ Really _ ?" Sirius exclaimed. "Wow, that's surprising—well, maybe not, since I don't think he spends much time in the library. I guess he's been busy with his senior year and everything."

There must have been something in Sirius' tone when he mentioned it being Harry's senior year, because Remus paused and looked at him. "You're probably going to miss him when he graduates."

"Yeah," Sirius sighed. "It'll be really weird not to have him around in general. I've helped James and Lily raise him since he was born . . . I feel like I'll have so much more time on my hands that I won't know what to do with." He stopped, not wanting to continue down that line of thinking. 

"How's Harry been doing in regards to . . . well, everything that Hermione told us?" Remus asked quietly. 

Sirius looked to his right; Lily's attention was on James, who was making large hand gestures as he told some story, causing his wife to giggle. He turned back to Remus and said, "I honestly don't know. I haven't been sure whether to talk to him alone or ask Lily and James, or just let what happens happen . . . " Sirius huffed a sigh. "He does seem a bit distant. Spends a lot of time with Ron and Hermione after school, but that's not too unusual." Sirius pondered for a minute, trying to remember the last time he and Harry had spent time together one-on-one. "I think I'll try to hang out with him alone, maybe this weekend. Gauge his mood."

Remus nodded. "That's a good idea." He started to speak again, then hesitated, seeming to think; Sirius waited, but just as Remus opened his mouth again they heard a loud, cheery, "Hello there!"

Sirius and Remus turned to see several members of the Weasley family, plus Hermione, standing at the end of the row by James, pink-cheeked and wearing various coldweather knitwear made by Molly Weasley. James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus stood up and scooted down the row to allow room to sit, exchanging greetings. 

"Oh, Ginny and I are going to sit by Neville and Luna, they're sitting a few rows up," Hermione said after greeting the adults. "Oh, hi Mr. Lupin!" She beamed and waved at Remus. 

"Hello, Hermione," Remus smiled. 

"Shit, where are my manners! Molly, Arthur, Ginny, this is Remus Lupin, he's the new librarian. Remus, Molly and Arthur Weasley and their daughter Ginny." Sirius hastily made introductions.

"It's lovely to meet you!" Molly smiled and leaned over to shake Remus' hand; Arthur did the same, and Ginny waved. 

"How're you liking Hogwarts?" Molly asked once Hermione and Ginny left to join their friends and the Weasley parents had taken seats by James. 

"It's wonderful," Remus said, leaning over Sirius slightly to be heard. Sirius consciously did not move away, then silently panicked, wondering if he was crowding Remus, who continued, "I'm really enjoying my work there, and the staff have been wonderful."

"With one notable exception," Sirius growled, but low enough that only Lily and Remus heard him; Lily squeezed his knee briefly, and Remus gave him a small, sad smile. 

"Well, we welcome you!" Arthur said happily, and Molly nodded, then added, "You  _ must _ come over for dinner sometime! The Potters and Sirius come over often, we'd love to have you."

"I'd like that," Remus said, and he leaned back to a normal sitting position (Sirius mourned the loss of contact). When he looked to Sirius, his eyes looked somewhat bright. "Your friends are very kind," he said quietly. 

Sirius smiled at the librarian. "You're easy to be kind to," he said without really thinking. He saw Remus' eyes widen in surprise, and then he smiled a wide, warm, smile, the kind Sirius had seen on him when they first entered Flourish & Blotts together over a month ago.

"Guys, I think it's starting!" Lily's excited voice broke through the small bubble that seemed to have encased Remus and Sirius.

Remus turned his attention to the field, where indeed the teams were filing onto their respective sides. "You'll have to explain what's happening to me; I've never played or watched rugby before.

Sirius laughed, only slightly resentful of Lily breaking their almost-moment. "Alright, then. I must warn you though, I  _ have _ played a lot of rugby in my day, so I may get . . . a little into it." 

Remus only smirked. 

It was a close, exciting game; the two teams kept consistently scoring through each 40-minute half, so that they were always just a handful of points away from usurping the other. In the last ten seconds, however, Harry scored a drop-goal that earned them the last three points Hogwarts needed to win, so the end score was 29-32 to Hogwarts. Sirius, Remus, and the Potters immediately jumped up and started cheering (Sirius having abandoned all pretense at dignity and restraint by the end of the first half), and they were amongst the last to stop clapping and yelling, only quieting down when the opposing teams lined up to shake hands. Soon, a general rumble of talking and people leaving their seats started, and the group finally let their stinging hands rest. 

"We usually say hi to Harry before he showers," Sirius said to Remus. "Mind sticking around for a bit?"

"Not at all." 

The Potters, Sirius, and Remus waited on the edge of the field in front of the bleachers, chatting amiably as they waited for Harry. Sirius let his eyes roam around, feeling slightly restless after sitting for so long, and he had to do a double-take when he thought he saw a flash of silver near the set of bleachers opposite them. Sirius looked again, but his eyes weren't deceiving him; what he had just seen was the silver-blonde head of Draco Malfoy, hair mostly hidden under a dark hood, sitting in the now-empty third row of the stands. He wasn't sitting with anybody, but scanning the field, seeming to look for someone. One leg was bouncing agitatedly. 

Sirius nudged Remus. "Look who showed up to the game," he murmured, gesturing towards Malfoy. Remus looked, but when he frowned Sirius realized his mistake and informed Remus, "Draco Malfoy." 

"Ah," Remus muttered in understanding. "So he misses rugby?"

"Mmm, my money would be that he misses something, all right, but it wasn't the game." 

Remus smirked and seemed about to reply when they heard Lily say, "Harry!"

The two men turned to see a dirty, exhausted but pleased-looking Harry walking toward them, Ron in a similar state right behind him.

"Excellent game, boys," James said proudly, clapping Harry on the shoulder and beaming at both of them. "Great start to the season, you'll be unstoppable."

"Thanks Dad," Harry said with a crooked smile, while Ron said, "Ta, Mr. P."

Harry, who had been looking around in a distracted manner, suddenly noticed Remus and eyed him curiously. Sirius swiftly said, "Not that you two would have known, since you're never in the library, but this is Remus Lupin, the new school librarian."

Ron scoffed, "We  _ know _ about him, Hermione won't shut up—"

Harry elbowed his friend and rolled his eyes before offering his hand to Remus. "Nice to meet you. Er, thanks for coming to the game."

"It was a pleasure," Remus smiled as he shook Harry's, then Ron's hands. "I learned a lot."

"I'm teaching him everything I know," Sirius said none-too-modestly. "Which means he'll be an expert by the next game."

Harry, whose eyes had been wandering again, laughed and looked at Sirius. "Unless you're planning to drive 20 miles to our away game, the next game at Hogwarts will be in three weeks."

Sirius tossed his head, but, realizing his hair was still pulled back and thus didn't have the desired hair-swishing effect, merely  _ tsk _ 'ed impatiently. 

"Ron, Harry!"

The Weasleys had spotted them and joined their group (along with Hermione, Luna, and Neville); they all congratulated the boys.

Sirius looked at Harry, noticing that his godson was once again searching around the stands, even surreptitiously craning his neck. He felt a nudge from Remus, and turned to see the librarian inclining his head towards Malfoy, still lurking in the stands, and then to Harry. Sirius put two and two together and moved closer to Harry, who had escaped from under James' arm, and muttered, "I think what you're looking for is over there," nodding his head to the opposing bleachers.

Harry's head whipped to face Sirius, shocked. 

Sirius merely nodded and moved back to Remus' side nonchalantly. Harry didn't move, staring from Remus to Sirius uncertainly before Sirius inclined his head meaningfully towards Malfoy again, widening his eyes. Harry nodded, muttered, "I'm going to say hi to someone," to his parents, then slipped out of the group. Sirius watched his godson walking toward the stands where Malfoy, who sat up straight very suddenly when he saw Harry heading his way, was waiting. He frowned, and realized he wasn't quite sure why he had done something that might have benefited a Malfoy.

"You seem doubtful," Remus murmured thoughtfully. 

Sirius grunted. "That boy has never been anything but a dick to anyone before this year, so yeah . . . I'm a little hesitant to see Harry hang out with him so willingly, I guess." He paused and turned to look at Remus. "And . . . honestly I'm not sure why I feel like I just did Malfoy a favor."

Remus nodded. "It seems like your reservations are deserved. I can't tell you why you encouraged Harry to talk to him, but you did. You didn't feel the need to advise Harry against being around Malfoy?" Remus didn't ask the question with any judgment, only honest curiosity. 

Sirius hesitated and studied Remus' face. The other man was looking at him with a neutral but open expression, and Sirius had the sudden realization that Remus was unnervingly perceptive, and it made Sirius feel uncertain but also strangely warm and comfortable. 

_ Fuck, I'm really in it _ .

Sirius tore his gaze from Remus' hazel eyes and said, "No, I'm going to leave Harry alone for the most part, if only because when I was his age, I would never have listened to somebody my age warning me against hanging out with somebody. And Harry's had a much more stable upbringing than I ever did, but uh . . . huh, that's actually not relevant at all," he finished hastily, a little embarrassed. He wasn't sure how that had slipped out; Remus was so,  _ so _ easy to talk to, it felt as natural as breathing. Sirius had to remind himself that he had only known the man a little over a month, and to be careful with what he said. It was more difficult than he would have anticipated. 

Remus only smiled gently, and Sirius' chest ached with the fondness he felt for the librarian. 

"How're you so good at this?" Sirius asked softly, his traitorous mouth letting the words slip before he could reconsider.

Remus cocked his head to the side slightly. "Good at what?"

"Talking. Or, like . . . you  _ see  _ things really well. And . . . I dunno. You're really, really easy to talk to." 

Something deeply melancholy flashed in Remus' eyes "Oh, practice," he said with false lightness. Then in a much more natural voice he added, "Although I cheat a bit with you. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, Sirius." 

Sirius kicked himself mentally for the way his heart stuttered when Remus said his name. "Really? I thought I had the haughty, aristocratic bitch face down pat."

Remus laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Sirius grinned in return, his feelings for Remus once again flaring in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time his feelings for someone else had been so goddamn  _ distracting _ ; everything Remus did made Sirius fall for him a little bit more. 

"Remus!" James interrupted before Sirius could say something revealing. "We usually retire for drinks at our place; care to join us?"

Remus looked surprised, and it took a second before he said, "Um, if . . . where do you live?"

Sirius suddenly remembered that Remus didn't have a car, and interjected, "I hitched a ride with James, Remus, so you should ride with us as well."

James and Lily nodded in agreement, and Remus looked relieved. Then he gave another beatific smile, and for the third time in as many minutes Sirius' heart swelled with a disturbing amount of joy and warmth. "I'd love to join you."

 

By the time they were ensconced in the Potter's living room, the warm feeling in Sirius' chest still hadn't gone away, but he had decided to studiously ignore it. His logic was that Sirius couldn't embarrass himself if he didn't acknowledge his feelings (and he hopefully wouldn't get a mini-heart attack every time Remus smiled or laughed or generally looked at Sirius). Sirius realized that this might be a sign that things were getting out of hand. 

James came back from making his and Lily's cocktails in the kitchen and snuggled next to his wife on the loveseat opposite Remus and Sirius, wrapping an arm around her. "How's the mead, Remus?" James asked.

Remus nodded. "It's delicious, I like it a lot." Remus had been reluctant to take James up on any offers of liquor, until Lily suggested mead (Sirius had noticed this, but had no idea if it meant anything). 

James looked pleased. "Good!"

Sirius suddenly realized something. "Prongs, how's Harry getting home?"

James looked slightly surprised. "He's getting a ride from Ron or Hermione, as usual. Why?"

Sirius shrugged. "Just wasn't sure." He took a sip of his mead. 

"Remus, have you lived in the area long?" Lily asked.

"For several years, yes. I've lived in different areas of the city, but I've always stayed in the general region. What about you and James?"

"I grew up a bit south of here, but I moved closer right before I started at Hogwarts," Lily said. "And James and Sirius have lived here all their lives." 

James nodded. "The Potters and the Blacks are very old names in this area, our families have lived here for generations."

Sirius grunted. "Yeah, well the Black name won't be around much longer." 

Remus turned to him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Just that," Sirius said. "I'm the last male descendent of 'The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black'," he added sarcastic air quotes around the titles. "And good riddance, I say." 

"Regulus . . . " James' voice faltered even as he started speaking.

"Hasn't been seen or heard from in twenty years, which means he's probably dead." Sirius said flatly. 

There was a moment of slightly awkward silence. Then Remus said, "I suppose that means they saved the best for last," as he looked at Sirius. Sirius blinked, then barked a loud laugh. 

" _ Hah _ ! Excellent point, Remus."

James shrugged. "Eh, he's alright, I guess." Lily rolled her eyes and pinched James' cheek, then exclaimed, "Oh! I'm being a terrible hostess, we all must be hungry. Sirius, help me make up some plates?" She glared at Sirius so meaningfully that he didn't dare object. 

In the kitchen, he and Lily started pulling out crackers, cheese, plates, and fruit. Sirius heard murmuring from the living room, indicating that James had wasted no time questioning Remus, and Sirius muttered, "Subtle, Lils." 

Lily spread two plates in front of her and started slicing brie. "I have no idea what you mean, Padfoot."

Sirius scoffed, expertly spreading a fan of crackers next to the cheese slices Lily had started laying out on a plate. "I suppose I got a little serious in there," he muttered. "Can't help but to put my foot in my mouth."

Lily sighed. "First of all, if that was a pun, it was terrible," she chided Sirius, who grinned (he hadn't meant it, honest). "Second, there's no need to apologize." She paused, then instead of speaking she laid her warm fingers over Sirius' briefly. "I like him, Sirius."

Sirius stilled, then chuckled. "Yeah. Me too," he said wryly. "I think . . . I think too much. Hence the foot-in-mouth."

Lily squeezed his hand, then returned to her snack preparations, speaking casually but deliberately. "I don't know about that."

Sirius moodily plucked some grapes off the larger bunch before plating them. "It's too early for me to feel this . . . intensely," he muttered.

Lily chuckled. "Since when have you ever done anything you care about half-assedly, Sirius?"

Sirius popped a grape in his mouth, chewed and swallowed before reaching to peel an orange. "I just really, really don't want to fuck this up."

Lily looked at him curiously. "Sirius . . . " she started, but as she paused Sirius suddenly realized he wasn't quite ready for whatever she was about to say next, and, to cover his uncertainty, and to make a quick escape, he grabbed the finished cheese and cracker plate, then started toward the living room before Lily finishing speaking. 

He was halfway down the short hallway when Sirius heard Remus ask, "So how did Sirius get the name 'Padfoot'?"

James laughed, and Sirius paused, feeling little shame as he eavesdropped. "Has he not told you? God, I forget how weird it sounds to other people."

"I hadn't heard it until tonight. And you have a nickname too?"

"Ah, we all did. I mean, in our college group. But Sirius' is really funny." Sirius leaned against the wall as he heard the subtle sounds of squeaking leather; James settling in to tell a story. "So, Sirius and I lived together for all our university years, and we went to an awful lot of parties, I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear. Neither of us were lightweights, but we went pretty hard, and Sirius had this absolutely hilarious tell when he was very, very drunk." A slight pause, then James continued, "About an hour after we got back from the pub or a party or whatever, when I'd finally gotten into bed, Sirius would come tiptoeing into my room, thinking he was all quiet, and he would  _ tuck me in _ . It was fucking hysterical. Of course, him being a clumsy drunk oaf, he'd wake me up, and the first couple times I was like, 'What the fuck are you doing mate,' and Sirius would just pat me on the head and say something like, 'Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were in bed,' as if  _ seeing  _ me in bed, asleep, wasn't enough for him. I'd say, 'Alright, well I was asleep, piss off,' and he'd just make sure the blankets were covering me and creep out on the pads of his feet, still trying to be sneaky for some reason.  _ And he never remembered doing this _ . For the longest time he was sure that I was fucking with him, until Lily witnessed it (since she never went along with any of my pranks, Sirius knew it was the truth). But because he always tiptoed around like a little kid trying to sneak behind a parent's back, I started calling him Padfoot, and for some reason it stuck."

Sirius smiled as he heard Remus chuckle. He hadn't thought of that story in a while (and a very small part of him still thought James had made the whole thing up). He straightened up and joined Remus and James in the living room.

"Cheese and crackers!" He announced cheerfully, setting down the plate on the coffee table with a flourish. 

"I hope you didn't break out any fancy appetizers just for me," Remus said as Sirius took his seat next to the librarian. 

"Nah. We've had this bargain-bin cheese in the freezer for months, just needed some innocent soul to dump it on," Sirius said breezily, leaning back and spreading his arms (very casually) along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing Remus' cardigan. He winked at Remus, and the other man smiled. Lily sailed into the living room and deposited the rest of the snacks on the table, along with plates and napkins, and James started describing one of the more difficult clients he had had to deal with at the public defender's office.

The rest of the evening passed too quickly for Sirius. He was quietly ecstatic that his friends were getting along so well; Remus was very interested in James' work in the public defender's office, and he and Lily talked enthusiastically about books for quite a while. But when Sirius caught Remus looking worriedly at the clock, he reluctantly suggested they wrap up for the night; it wasn't as if they couldn't do this again, Sirius reassured himself. 

It was almost 11:30 when the Potters bade goodnight to Remus and Sirius, Lily even giving Remus a friendly kiss on the cheek, and Sirius felt warm as they walked toward his bike in the chilly night air. He did think wistfully of the conversation he was missing out on as he and Remus sped towards Remus' apartment; it was one of the few times Sirius wished he owned a car rather than a motorcycle. Rather than lingering on what-ifs, however, Sirius let himself enjoy the feel of Remus curled around his back as they drove through the night. 

Sirius killed the engine once he was outside the apartment, and guided Remus off the bike; his hand lingered on Remus' elbow as the librarian took off Sirius' helmet (which Sirius had stubbornly insisted that Remus wear) and handed it to Sirius. Sirius took it in his left hand, his right still subtly curved around Remus' elbow. Remus straightened, and as he did both his and Sirius' arms started to fall back to their natural positions simultaneously and their hands met together, fingers loosely connected. After several seconds or several millennia, Remus stepped back and coughed, breaking the contact. 

"Thank you for the ride," he said softly.

"Anytime." Sirius hoped he didn't sound as breathless as he felt. He had never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss Remus right now. 

Remus nodded, not quite meeting Sirius' eyes. "Well. I'll see you tomorrow." He nodded rather shyly at Sirius before turning and starting toward the apartment. Sirius echoed, "See you tomorrow," and was pleased when Remus turned to grace him with a smile, never breaking stride. Sirius slipped on his helmet as he watched Remus unlock the door; the librarian turned back one last time to wave at Sirius, who returned the gesture, before entering the building. Sirius started his bike and made a slick U-turn toward the main road. The entire ride home, and for several hours once he was finally in bed, all Sirius could think about was how he urgently needed to take Remus Lupin on a proper date. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to follow me in a place where I exist at least on a weekly basis, check out my tumblr or Twitter (fallingpanda24). It's a lot of fandoms, the ocean, and Mothman.


	18. Chapter 18

_"You came."_

_Malfoy sat up straighter when he saw Harry approaching the bleachers toward him, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. "Yeah, well. It was a good game."_

_Harry just barely resisted smiling. Two months ago, Harry would have thought that Malfoy would sooner inject himself with poison than deign to say anything resembling complimentary to Harry. Now, however, it was just one more odd thing in his extremely odd almost-friendship with Malfoy. "I feel good about it. I was ready to kill #28 from the other team though, he wouldn't leave me the hell alone."_

_One corner of Malfoy's mouth turned up. "I saw that. You complain about his body odor or something? Insinuate that his mother was also his cousin?"_

_Harry shook his head. "He even kept his plays_ just _this side of legal, so he never got called. I'll say something to Hooch if we have to play them again."_

_Malfoy nodded, and they fell into silence. Malfoy's pale eyes looked past Harry, probably eyeing the large group Harry had just left. "Your family waiting for you?"_

_Harry glanced behind him. His parents, Sirius, Lupin, the Weasleys, and Hermione were all chatting amiably; nobody was looking for him. Sirius especially seemed entirely wrapped up in a close discussion with Lupin. He turned back to Malfoy. "No. I already said hi to them, they'll probably go back home for drinks, it's what they usually do."_

_Malfoy nodded wordlessly. Harry's stomach seemed to flop over as he asked, "What about you?"_

_Malfoy's attention snapped to Harry very suddenly. "What about me?"_

_"What're you up to?"_

_Malfoy continued staring at Harry intensely. Harry tried to keep his features looking casual and neutral. Malfoy took his lead and looked over the field cooly, shrugging before replying, "Might take a drive. I don't have much else better to do."_

_It suddenly occurred to Harry that Malfoy seemed very lonely, which may be why he blurted out, "Want company?"_

 

_They said almost nothing the entire drive; there didn't seem to be much reason to speak. Malfoy had music playing through the speakers from his phone, a surprising playlist of low-key indie music, and the windows were rolled down, letting the cool, crisp-smelling air rush over them. Malfoy's car, some tastefully expensive foreign brand Harry vaguely recognized, was comfortable and he felt surprisingly relaxed. Harry had no idea where they were going, and Malfoy didn't tell him. They were nearing the city limits, Harry knew, but he didn't have a guess as to their destination._

_Harry didn't have to wait long, though, as Malfoy pulled off onto a nearly-hidden dirt road, slowing down as they passed underneath low-hanging branches, brambles scraping the side of the car. Once the brush cleared, Harry saw that they were on an overlook,a beautiful view of the city spread in front of them._

_Malfoy parked about ten feet from the edge of the overlook and turned off the engine. He started to get out of the car, and Harry followed him; they ended up half-sitting, half-leaning on the hood. Harry put his hands in his pockets and looked at the view. It was already dark, but the city below was brightly lit. It was very pretty._

_He heard rustling, and turned to see Malfoy pulling a pack of cigarettes from his hoodie pocket. "You mind?" Malfoy asked. Harry shook his head, and Malfoy shook out a cigarette and stowed the rest before lighting it. The flame from the lighter starkly illuminated his pale features for a scant few seconds, enough for Harry to notice that the purple shadows he had seen the week before were still heavy under Malfoy's eyes. Harry turned back to the overlook._

_At first, just like in the car, the two sat in silence; but then, after several minutes, Malfoy spoke. "Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly._

_Harry, puzzled, turned to see Malfoy staring at him, waiting for a response. Harry frowned, though he had a faint inkling what Malfoy was asking. "Doing what?"_

_Malfoy gestured vaguely around at them, at the overlook. He took a drag. "This. Being here. Talking," Harry could hear the unspoken "with me."_

That's a good question, _Harry thought. "I don't know," he answered honestly._

_Malfoy turned to face the overlook. "You feel sorry for me," he guessed flatly._

_Harry paused, thinking. He couldn't pretend that he hadn't noticed Malfoy was obviously going through some shit, and that it wasn't pleasant, but Harry didn't pity him because of that. "No," he said finally. "If I pitied you, I wouldn't be here."_

_Malfoy took another drag from his cigarette and looked at Harry again. He blew out smoke, but pursed his lips in such a way so it wasn't directed at Harry's face. His brow was furrowed in thought. "Alright. Why, then? What changed?"_

You did. _It was true, but that still didn't answer the question. And it certainly didn't satisfy Harry. He exhaled heavily, frustrated. "I don't know."_

_"You seem to not know a lot."_

_Harry frowned at Malfoy, annoyed. "Well, why are_ you _here then? Why'd you let me come along? Why've you been giving me rides home? Why'd you come to the game?"_

_Malfoy's eyes dropped to the ground, and he took a deep, slow drag. He let the smoke escape lazily from his mouth, and Harry watched the cloudy swirls, weirdly transfixed. It wasn't fair that, even exhausted-looking, dressed in a hoodie, and with unkempt hair, Malfoy looked cool and untouchable, like he was shooting an advertisement._

_"Well, fuck," Malfoy finally said, quietly, and Harry laughed. Malfoy's eyes flicked up to him, and then he smiled. Harry relaxed a bit, feeling more at ease._

_"Maybe . . . we're becoming friends?" he suggested after a few moments._

_Malfoy smirked and then wrinkled his nose. "Hmm . . . that doesn't feel right."_

_"Not enemies, then."_

_Another smirk, and another drag. "That's closer."_

_They sat and watched the city fall under a heavier blanket of darkness, either comfortably silent or quietly discussing the game. After a while, Malfoy put out the stump of his cigarette on his shoe, and when they got in the car he put it in the cupholder. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Malfoy said, "We have to save the earth, Potter." Harry snickered, and Malfoy almost looked pleased. It was just after midnight when he dropped Harry off, and Harry told his parents he'd had a good time with Ron and Hermione._

 

    Harry didn't have any plans on Saturday, which meant that he was still in bed at noon, scrolling through Malfoy's Facebook profile. He hadn't seen Malfoy since Thursday night, other than quick glimpses at school, and, unable to get their conversation out of his head, had found Malfoy's page. He felt a little embarrassed cyber-stalking Malfoy (who he was not friends with, but had a fairly public profile), though it wasn't as if he was seeing anything extremely personal; most of Malfoy's timeline consisted of wall posts from other friends (mainly Pansy Parkinson), and tagged posts from Crabbe, Goyle, and his mother. A majority of Narcissa Malfoy's posts were family photos where Malfoy looked stiff and haughty, which made Harry smile for some reason.

    There was a knock on his door. "Come in," Harry called, quickly exiting Facebook and sitting up.

    The door opened and Sirius poked his head in. "Good, you're awake. I know you're a teenager, but sleeping til noon is just excessive. I'm going to run to the mall for some errands in an hour, want to come?"

    He didn't have anything else to do, and Harry hadn't seen much of his godfather outside of school for several weeks. "Sure," Harry said.

    Sirius grinned. "Great! There's still some eggs and bacon, though at this time you'd be eating lunch and not breakfast."

 

    The most awkward thing about hanging out in public with his godfather, Harry had long thought, was nothing to do with Sirius' behavior (overly exuberant and loud though he could be), but with others; it was weird to see men and women blatantly checking out Sirius, giving him flirty looks and coy smiles. It was even weirder, Harry fervently thought, for those same people to be sizing _him_ up, obviously wondering if he was too young to have Sirius as a sugar daddy. Sirius, of course, completely ignored all of the attention he got, and Harry wondered sometimes if he was even aware of it.

    It wasn't as bad in places where people knew who they were, like in the art shop the two were wandering around in. Well, Harry was wandering; Sirius was shooting the breeze with the store owner, having already picked out his purchases. Harry was going to give him ten minutes before he dragged Sirius somewhere else, having learned from experience that Sirius could cheerfully converse forever if not forcibly removed.

    After walking aimlessly for a while, they retired to the food court, chatting about school and rugby between bites of food. When they were about halfway done, Sirius said casually, "So what'd you do with Malfoy on Thursday?"

    Harry choked on his sip of soda. "What?" he half-gasped.

    Sirius chewed and swallowed a bite of his pizza and raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I'm the one who directed you to him, remember. I assumed you hung out with him after the game." When Harry just sat, frozen, unsure of what to say, Sirius added, "I also saw a car that I assumed belonged to him leaving when I came back from dropping off Remus, and I guessed he had been your ride home."

    Harry nodded cautiously. This wasn't completely uncharted territory for Harry and his godfather; he had gone to Sirius with his frustrations of Cho's on-again, off-again nature, and frankly talked with him and his parents about his and Ginny's mutual breakup.

    But this . . . it was _Malfoy_. _Harry_ didn't even know how he felt about this situation, he didn't expect his hothead, grudge-holding godfather to be calm about it . . .

    So he said as much.

    "Yeah, well . . . you're . . . okay, with it? You and Dad don't like the Malfoys," Harry phrased delicately, leaving out the part that he, too, had hated all of them until very recently.

    Sirius frowned, taking another bite of his pizza. Then he sighed and said through his mouthful, "Harry, I'm really very sorry to tell you this, really I am, but I'm afraid," he paused dramatically, "I've gotten _old_ . So, basically, I don't care anymore. Well," he amended, "I hate Lucius still, a lot. He's the worst. No wait, Snape is, I hate him too, and I maintain my hatred of him with love and care. But what I mean is, Lucius being an insufferable, sniveling weasel just isn't as important to me anymore as much as the things I _do_ care about, like you, and your parents, and my job, and—" Sirius caught himself, swallowed, then finished unconvincingly, "other stuff. What I'm rambling towards is that I think you've got a good head on your shoulders, and I'm not about to force you to do something you don't feel like doing. Believe me," Sirius grimaced, "it's not in my nature to do that."

    Harry nodded slowly, eating his food. Sirius let things be silent for once, which greatly surprised Harry, and that gave him enough time to sort through his thoughts before saying, "I think we're friends."

    Sirius "hmm"'ed neutrally. "Is that what you want?"

    Harry thought. "Maybe. I guess. So far he's been much less of a dick, so that's made my life easier." But also more difficult, he realized. It would be easy to ignore Malfoy and stop thinking about him if he had continued his pattern of being a cruel, self-centered asshole.

    Sirius nodded. Then, something clicked in Harry's mind. "Hermione told you, didn't she? About what Malfoy said to me?"

    Sirius froze for a second, but then relaxed and admitted, "Yeah, she did."

    "And my parents?"

    Sirius stole a chip from Harry's plate. "I figured it'd be better to talk to you before your parents," he said casually.

    Harry swallowed and nodded just as casually back, swatting Sirius' hand when he tried to steal another chip. Harry was worried that he had quietly started obsessing over Draco Malfoy, if he was at the point where he talked to his godfather about his feelings towards him; and the fact that he was thinking in terms of "feelings" was also rather alarming. Harry pushed those thoughts away, a bit uneasy.

    For the rest of their trip, Sirius allowed conversation to dwell on other, non-Malfoy related topics, for which Harry was grateful. The only time Sirius acted anything other than normal was at one point when they wandered past a bookstore, and Sirius suggested in a would-be-careless way that they go in. Harry was puzzled but acquiesced, and grew only more bemused as his godfather wandered around in the fiction aisles for an inordinately long time, reading back covers and front flaps with silent intensity, which was a stark contrast to his normal lighthearted, mildly interested method of browsing. At one point, Harry offered to help Sirius look for something, but this seemed to bring his godfather out of his odd headspace, and he waved the offer away before they left the store without buying anything.

    All in all, it was a rather strange but not unpleasant outing with his godfather.

 

    Harry spent the rest of his afternoon walking the Weasley dogs (the ancient, giant Lab Errol; the rather standoffish and prim Beagle Hermes; and the extremely excitable mutt Pig) with Ron and Hermione. It was a beautiful day, so they visited the dog park to let the pups run free. Pig strained at this leash once he recognized where they were going, and took off like a bullet the second Ron unclipped him, practically frothing with excitement at the chance to play with other dogs. Hermes was also excited but played it rather cool, trotting in a dignified manner around the perimeter of the park, occasionally coming back to the trio with a stick for them to throw. Errol stuck close to Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who had parked themselves on a picnic bench, for pets, occasionally wandering a little ways away to investigate a scent.

    The trio weren't surprised when the giant black boarhound Fang bounded over to greet them, closely followed by his owner, none other than Hagrid.

    "Fancy seein' you lot here!" He grinned at the trio, and and Errol wagged his tail as Hagrid gave him a few hearty pats. "How's yer Saturday goin'?"

    "I got a lot of reading done," Hermione said happily, rubbing Fang behind his ears as he panted contentedly.

    "I only woke up an hour ago," Ron said with a grin, chucking a large stick that Hermes had brought him; the dog took off like a shot to retrieve it.

    "Hung out at the mall with Sirius," Harry said. "Not much else. What about you, Hagrid?"

    "I was at that fundraiser this mornin'. A big dog walk ter raise money for pitbulls. Good turnout," Hagrid said proudly. "Yeh should come next time with the dogs."

    "That's excellent, Hagrid!" Hermione beamed. "That sounds like fun."

    "You coming for dinner tomorrow, Hagrid?" Ron asked. The Weasleys frequently hosted large Sunday dinners, which quickly ended up becoming crowded with many parents and students from the school.

    "O' course!" Hagrid said. "I'll never miss any o' your mother's cookin' if I can help it."

    The trio and Hagrid stayed at the dog park for a couple more hours, until even Pig was exhausted from running around, then they parted ways and walked back to the Weasley's. Hermione started on her homework and Ron turned on a movie, but Harry made an excuse to leave; there was somewhere he wanted to go.

 

    Harry sat in his car in the Hogwarts parking lot for several minutes, debating the wisdom of going to the track, and trying not to think too much of the real reasons he found himself going there again. His conversation with Sirius was fresh in his mind, one part in particular pushing itself to the forefront of his mind: _"I think we're friends."_ The words sounded stupid and childish to him now, so much so that Harry almost reversed out of his spot and drove home right then and there—but he caught himself, took a breath to clear his head, and got out of the car.

    Just as Harry had thought, Malfoy was at the track; seeing him sent an odd wave of relief through Harry, and his doubts from just a few minutes ago seemed less important. Malfoy must've already taken his run, since though he was dressed in the same green-and-silver athletic clothes he'd worn every time he and Harry had jogged, he was lounging on the bleachers, smoking a cigarette and staring broodingly at the setting sun.

    Harry walked over to the bleachers; Malfoy didn't glance at him, but, once Harry was just a couple yards away, he called, "You took your sweet time."

    Harry resisted the urge to smile. "I don't remember agreeing to be here at any certain time." He climbed to where Malfoy was and sat down next to him. Malfoy rolled his eyes.  "Expectations, Potter, are made with actions as well as words. I should've known you'd be too thick to realize that." He blew out a thick cloud of smoke, still not deigning to look at Harry. Harry, for his part, felt a bit more comfortable with Malfoy in this mood; he preferred a combative and haughty Malfoy to the listless, passive person he'd been a week or so ago.

    However, that still didn't give Harry much direction as to how to proceed, now that it was just him, Draco Malfoy, and the empty track field, no jogging or driving to distract them. "Erm . . . so how're your classes going?" Harry asked awkwardly to fill the silence.

    Malfoy gave Harry a look of utmost disdain before taking a drag. "Boring," he said.

    "What?"

    "Boring, Potter. If I wanted to be asked shallow, uninteresting questions about my academics I'd go to a family reunion, and I'd drive my car off a cliff before going to another one of those."

    Harry snorted. "So I can't ask you what your favorite color is?"

    "No."

    Harry gestured to his clothes. "I mean, I assume green and silver."

    Malfoy shrugged, then looked at Harry, his yellow-gold athletic shorts and plain red T-shirt. "Yes, actually. With that logic yours is . . . red and gold?"

    "Eh, I don't really care."

    Malfoy sighed loudly. "Boring again, Potter."

    "What?"

    "Who doesn't have a favorite _color_?"

    "You just said you didn't _want_ me to ask you what your favorite color was, and now you judge me for not having one?"

    "Yes."

    Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, then. I suppose I prefer green."

    "Brings out your eyes," Malfoy muttered absently, then he flushed bright red and busily inhaled from his cigarette, his eyes fixed in front of him.

    Harry shifted, not sure what to say. He could feel the Malfoy's confession from weeks ago hanging in the air between them, and even if it had actually happened several weeks before (though it felt much longer), Harry still wasn't ready to deal with it.

    Harry leaned back, though the bleachers were ice-cold and uncomfortable no matter how he sat; he wasn't sure how Malfoy managed to look so cool and poised. "Alright. Family reunion, or being forced to sit through a four-hour assembly run by Lockhart?"

    Malfoy snorted. "Lockhart, easy."

    "Really?"

    "Gilderoy Lockhart has _nothing_ on my grandmother, Potter," Malfoy said dryly. "She'd have him weeping into his monogrammed handkerchiefs within ten minutes."

    "Alright then, Lockhart or Firenze?"

    Malfoy paused. "Lockhart, I think."

    Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well,"

    "It's not because I _like_ him or anything. He's got less brains than a shovel, which makes it much more entertaining to witness the astonishingly vapid things that come out of his maw," Malfoy said quickly.

    "Honestly, I'd take Firenze. At least he knows what he's talking about. I can't _stand_ Lockhart giving me all his life lessons, all the 'when I was your age' bullshit. If he really saved the prime minister from being poisoned, I'll kiss Snape."

    Malfoy laughed. It was the first time Harry had heard him laugh that wasn't a sneer at someone else's expense, or a grudging snort. It was a real laugh, surprisingly light and honest; Harry was amazed at how much Malfoy's face was transformed, looking younger and so much happier.

    Malfoy's chuckles quieted; he saw Harry staring and said, "What?" in a very defensive voice.

    Harry shrugged, a little embarrassed to have been staring so blatantly. "You don't sound as much like a stuck-up prick when you laugh, is all."

    Malfoy grunted, his smile gone now. "You must be gobsmacked."

    Harry felt as though he had said something wrong, but wasn't sure how to fix it, so he fell silent. Malfoy continued smoking his cigarette, but the quiet between the two wasn't painful; it almost felt comfortable.

    Once the sun had started to set in earnest, Harry made motions to get up; Malfoy followed suit. Harry only noticed now as they started walking towards the parking lot that his joints were very angry about being forced to recline on metallic bleachers for hours. He was surprised it had taken him this long to notice the discomfort.

    Harry was so used to their routine that he thought nothing of automatically starting to follow Malfoy to his car once they got to the parking lot, until Malfoy arched an eyebrow and said, "Didn't you drive here?"

    "Oh, er—yeah," Harry said, his face heating slightly. The two had stopped walking, and Harry merely stood there for a minute before saying awkwardly, "Well, bye."

He thought he heard rustling as turned and started moving towards his car, but didn't look until Malfoy called, "Hey, Potter!"  Harry turned, and his rugby reflexes acted before he could think, catching the object Malfoy had tossed to him. Harry stared at the half-empty carton of cigarettes, bewildered, but Malfoy only called, "See you later," and was in his car before Harry could think of anything to say. Harry blinked, then walked to his own car, still clutching the carton. It wasn't until he had gotten into the driver's seat that he thought to open it, and he laughed in surprise when he did; on the inside of the lid was a phone number, and the words Malfoy had spoken to him before their very first rugby tryouts: _Scared, Potter?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius will be back in the next chapter, where things finally start moving along ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. This chapter has taken me a while to get right. I really hope you like it.

Sirius spent an embarrassing amount of time Saturday evening scrolling through the local pet shelter's list of available dogs; it was embarrassing because he was quite sure the only reason he was doing this was because of the off-hand comment he had made to Remus not too long ago about possibly getting a dog, and Remus' response that he seemed like a dog person.

It's not like Remus said _he_ wanted a dog. But that didn't stop Sirius from lingering on a picture of a big black mutt and imagining it cuddling with Remus, keeping his normally chilled limbs warm, thinking about he and Remus walking it in the evenings, of buying a car so the dog could come with them on trips—

Sirius closed out of the browser and set his phone down resolutely, frowning at the ceiling of his music room. He focused on the record he had playing—The Velvet Underground's debut album—and noticed that it had gotten quite dark. He must have been looking at pictures of dogs for longer than he thought. Sirius' scowled deepened.

His phone buzzed; a text from James. _Dinner at A &M's at 4. _Followed by three lines of random emojis. God, James was a dork.

Sirius suddenly thought of something. He opened up his texts with Remus and typed. After several drafts, he settled on: _Going to the Weasley's tomorrow for dinner at 4. Care to join me?_ Then he waited. "Pale Blue Eyes" started playing, Lou Reed's voice floating soothingly through the speakers. Sirius tried to focus on the music and not the slow but sure swirl of anxious thoughts that started to build the longer he waited for Remus to respond. Finally, after what seemed like half an hour (but was actually six minutes), Remus responded: _That sounds lovely. Should I bring anything?_ Sirius chuckled. _Definitely not. Molly & co take care of almost everything. I can pick you up at 3:30 or so? _ Less than a minute later: _That's perfect._ Sirius' mouth turned up in a large, uncontrollable grin. Then, feeling brave, he sent: _Excellent. You should make good on your promise and come with me to get drinks from Rosie afterwards at the Hog's Head._ He was still determined to take Remus out properly, but figured working his way up slowly was okay; Remus seemed a little shy, and Sirius had no idea what his feelings were, or if he was even interested in men. Sure, he was nice to Sirius and seemed to have absolutely no problems when told Sirius was queer, but that didn't mean he was sexually or romantically attracted to Sirius. He pushed those thoughts aside; worrying wouldn't change Remus' orientation. He would just try to be subtle. Sirius could definitely be subtle. Probably.

His phone buzzed: _I did promise, didn't I? Well, it's a date then._

For several moments, Sirius felt paralyzed; then, in one huge rush, his body was filled with kinetic, fizzy energy, bubbling up under his skin and practically making him vibrate. A _DATE_ . Remus said it was a _date_. It was as if he had read Sirius' mind and decide to assuage him of his worries. Of course, if Sirius decided to be nitpicky, he could reason that Remus was using the word facetiously, or at least in a more casual meaning, and allow melancholy and doubt to fill his mind, but once again Sirius swept away his negative thoughts; he found it was getting easier and easier to do so.

 

Sirius adjusted his shirt for the tenth time, buttoning the second button before undoing it again. He smoothed down his hair, turning his head to make sure it wasn't sticking up in the back; only James and Harry could pull off that look. Once he decided that he could look no more carelessly put-together, he finally left his house.

He pulled up to Remus' apartment at 3:27, and Remus must have been watching out a window, because he exited the building after Sirius had been idling just a few seconds, smiling at Sirius as he walked up. He was dressed fairly normally, though he was wearing jeans, something Sirius had not seen before, and was missing the large messenger bag he normally carried, but still wore a heavy, cozy-looking cardigan.

Sirius greeted him and handed Remus his helmet; Remus put it on and got on the bike swiftly and without assistance, something that warmed Sirius. Then they took off towards the Weasley's.

There were already several cars parked when Sirius and Remus pulled up fifteen minutes later, and Sirius noticed Remus tugging at his cardigan rather nervously as they dismounted and started towards the door.

"You all right?" Sirius asked.

Remus stilled his fluttering hands. "I'm just, ah, not very used to large groups of people. I get a tad nervous."

Shit, he hadn't considered this. "God, I'm sorry, I should've warned you—"

Remus shook his head firmly. "It's fine. I've never had a large social circle, so it's a change. But—a good change." He smiled at Sirius, and Sirius smiled back as his stomach filled with butterflies. " _Well, it's a date then,"_ echoed in his head.

Sirius opened the door to what everybody affectionately called the Burrow without bothering to knock; immediately he was hit with a barrage of amazing smells, and any tension Sirius had been unknowingly carrying melted away. If James' house had been a refuge for Sirius as a teenager, he felt similarly for the Burrow now as an adult; he had known only laughter, kindness, friendship, and love in this house, and it truly felt like a home to him in a way his own family's house probably never would.

"Ahoy!" Sirius bellowed into the house, and he heard a few answering calls coming from the kitchen, along with several barks. There was a frantic clattering of claws, and Sirius braced himself just in time for Pig to barrel straight into him, tail wagging at an astounding speed. "Hello, you great big mutt!" Sirius said affectionately as Pig slobbered joyously over every part of Sirius he could reach. He looked over at Remus to see a surprised but very amused expression on the librarian's face. There was another set of much slower ticking sounds, and Errol lumbered over to greet the pair. "Well hello there," Remus said, bending down to pet Errol, who approved this development by closing his eyes and wagging his tail.

"That's Errol, he's ancient," Sirius said, finally pushing Pig off of him. "This is Pig."

"Pig?" Remus asked.

"He's only 'Pig' because Ron was too stupid to call him by his full name," came an cheerfully annoyed voice. Ginny walked towards them, smiling. "Hi, Sirius."

"Hey Ginny," Sirius gave her a one-armed hug. "You've met Remus, right?"

"Briefly, at the rugby game," Remus shook Ginny's hand. "So his name isn't actually Pig?"

"It's _Pigwidgeon_ ," Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was my turn to pick a family pet name, but since he was so fat as a puppy, Ron just called him Pig and it stuck. It does kind of fit him better anyway," she admitted, petting the dog in question. "Most everybody is in the backyard, Mum said you can just go straight back there."

"Thanks, Gin," Sirius started down the hallway, Remus and the dogs in tow. They passed through the kitchen, greeting Molly, James, and Lily, and then Remus said, "Alice?"

Alice Longbottom turned around from where she was chopping vegetables and squealed when she saw Remus. "Remus!" She dashed forward and hugged him. "I didn't know you were going to be here!"

"It was rather last-minute. I didn't know you would be here either," Remus replied, looking pleased.

"I didn't know you two know each other!" Lily said, surprised. Sirius had forgotten as well.

"We were childhood friends," Alice smiled. "We just had dinner the other week. I'm really happy you're here, Remus."

"I as well. I'm very appreciative for your hosting, Molly, your home is lovely," Remus said.

Molly flushed slightly and waved his comment away. "Oh, no thanks needed, Remus!" Sirius thought wryly of Rosmerta's comment from when she had met Remus: " _Ooh, he's a charmer, isn't he?_ " He really was, Sirius agreed. And very naturally and innocently so, too. It had certainly worked on Sirius.

"C'mon, let's go see everybody," he urged Remus. They exited through the screen door that led into the backyard, Errol and Pig still on their heels.

Arthur was standing at the grill with Bill Weasley, Hermes sitting at their feet, trying to beg for scraps without lowering himself to actually begging; Neville, Luna, and Hermione were sitting in lawn chairs under a tree, talking and laughing; Ron, Harry, and Hagrid were roughhousing with Fang, and Pig abandoned them to join the play. Sirius felt a swell of happiness; these were his _people_ , his family. They were the people nearest and dearest to his heart, and he felt excited to bring Remus to a get-together where all of them were present.

Arthur and Bill looked up and called "hello"s to Sirius and Remus, and Sirius waved. "Bill! What brings you back here?"

Bill grinned, looking effortlessly cool as ever with his long hair and tattoos peeking out from under rolled-up sleeves. "Can't a son come home for a family dinner?"

Sirius laughed. "No, that can't be. There's always an ulterior motive." He gestured to Remus. "Bill, this is Remus Lupin, he started working at Hogwarts this year. Remus, this is Bill, Molly and Arthur's oldest."

"Pleasure," Bill shook Remus' hand. "What do you teach?"

"I work in the library," Remus said.

"Oh! Old Pincey's finally kicked it then?"

"No, she's alive and well," Remus said dryly. "And not a monster to work with, despite the chilling tales I've gleaned from the school grapevine."

Bill chuckled. "Ah well, old grudges die hard. I hope you're liking Hogwarts. I miss that place, honestly."

"So far it's been quite wonderful," Remus said; he turned towards Sirius when he said this and smiled, and Sirius' heart went into overdrive.

It _was_ a wonderful afternoon in Sirius' opinion, with a lot of delicious food and good conversation. Sirius kept a slightly worried eye on Remus at first, concerned that the onslaught of loud-but-well-meaning new people might be too much, but Remus fared very well; great, in fact. He seemed to be in a permanent state of quietly delighted surprise the entire evening as he chatted away with various Weasleys, Potters, and Hogwarts students, and petted Errol, who seemed to have taken quite a liking to the librarian. Remus looked slightly flushed as they left, though he'd only drunk soda, and even when he and Sirius got to the Hog's Head his still wore an expression of pleased bewilderment.

"You had a good time?" Sirius asked, grinning. He felt it might have been accurate to say that Remus had been even more warmly welcomed at the party than he had been, and these were Sirius' friends. He found this didn't bother him, however. Quite the opposite, surprisingly enough.

Remus gave a wide smile that made his whole face light up. "Everyone was so . . . kind. Not," he added quickly, "that I expected your friends to be cruel but I just . . . " he paused. "I haven't been around so many genuinely nice people in a very long time," Remus finished quietly, and Sirius' heart ached. This wasn't the first time Remus had mentioned being surprised by being shown basic kindnesses from other, and while Sirius was willing to bet there was a story behind that surprise, and he desperately wanted to know it (and the names of anybody who had caused Remus harm, so he could pay them a visit), he also didn't want to force Remus to open up. So instead, Sirius decided to take a bit of a chance and open up himself.

"You're a wonderful man, Remus," Sirius said softly. "And you deserve that kindness. I'm really glad you came with me today."

Remus brought his gaze up from the table; when he met Sirius' eyes his already-present flush deepened, and Sirius momentarily couldn't breathe.

"You lads going to let me show off my mixing skills?"

Remus blinked and jolted as if suddenly woken up. "Oh, ah, I haven't even looked—"

"How do you feel about gin?" Sirius asked. Remus looked surprised but said, "Gin's fine."

"I've got something in mind then. You trust me?"

Remus nodded solemnly, his mouth quirking slightly, and Sirius grinned before saying to Rosmerta, "A French 75 for Remus and a Sazerac for me, please."

"You've got it," Rosmerta winked at Remus, and then left their table, taking the previously intense and intimate atmosphere with her. Sirius cleared his throat and asked about Alice Longbottom.

"Yes, we were childhood friends," Remus said. "We've kept in touch sporadically over the years, more consistently in the past decade. She and Frank are quite lovely. I didn't expect her to be there today."

"What does she do?" Sirius asked.

"She's a social worker, she's quite passionate about it."

"Ah, that's right. That's probably why she and James always end up in such serious conversations," Sirius mused, thinking back to previous get-togethers when Alice and James would be huddled in a corner, grimly talking about their cases and careers.

"Yes, and with James in the public defender's office, I wouldn't be surprised if they had worked together in the past," Remus said.

"I'll have to ask James," Sirius said, making a mental note. "I really know Neville the best, had him in a couple classes. Very accident-prone, but very sweet."

Remus laughed. "That's a lifelong trait, I believe. Alice and Frank kept an awful lot of their house baby-proofed well into Neville's childhood."

They shared a laugh, and Rosmerta arrived with their drinks. "French 75 for Remus," she murmured, handing Remus a tall glass decorated with a lemon peel, "And a Sazerac for Sirius." Sirius took his tumbler. "Thank you, Rosie."

"Just holler if you need anything," Rosmerta said before she strolled back to the bar.

Sirius took a sip of his drink; it was excellent, as was everything Rosmerta mixed. He held the whiskey-filled concoction in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, enjoying the harsh taste. He sighed in appreciation, and glanced at Remus to find the other man staring at him. "I really like my whiskey," Sirius grinned, not even feeling embarrassed. He nodded at Remus' drink. "How does that taste?"

"Let's find out," Remus said, and he took a slow, measured sip of his cocktail. His eyebrows went up. "This is . . . delicious," he said, sounding surprised.

"Good!" Sirius said happily. "I figured it was safe to go with something light and fizzy; I'm guessing you don't drink too often?"

"You guessed correctly. Which makes me somewhat of a lightweight," Remus smiled and took another sip. "This is very refreshing."

Sirius grinned again; he was having a very hard time not smiling constantly tonight. "I'm really glad you like it."

They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the other patrons of the Hog's Head, before Remus cleared his throat. "Ah," he began, swirling the straw in his drink in a nervous manner. "I've been meaning to ask you about something."

"Sure, fire away," Sirius said, crunching on an ice cube.

"When . . . rather, that time we ate in the staffroom," Sirius' stomach turned slightly, remembering how viscerally Remus had reacted to Snape's cruelty. Remus continued, his voice dropping lower and lower so Sirius had to strain to hear"Hagrid mentioned—and maybe I wasn't supposed to hear this, or something, but Hagrid mentioned—that you're—queer?" Remus sounded almost afraid; when he finally managed to say the word "queer," Sirius' stomach flopped again, but in a much more pleasantly nervous way this time.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, going for a casually confident tone and instead just sounding unnecessarily aggressive. He coughed, then continued more naturally, "Uh, yeah, yeah. I consider myself pansexual, or whatever the correct term is." Remus nodded, sipping his drink, not making eye contact with Sirius for more than half a second. Sirius studied him, an old fear rising to the surface. "Is that—okay?" he asked quietly.

Remus' head snapped up and he looked Sirius straight in the eye. "Of course!" he said firmly, his voice the loudest Sirius had ever heard it. Remus seemed to recognize the volume and took a breath before continuing, in softer tones, "Of course it's okay." He was looking down into his drink now, fiddling with his straw again.

Sirius relaxed, feeling relieved, and suddenly hopeful. "So why—"

"I'm gay," Remus blurted, looking stricken that he'd actually spoken those words aloud, but they filled Sirius with a giddy kind of joy.

" _Really_ ?" he laughed. Remus nodded hesitantly. "That's _excellent_!" Sirius was smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt. Remus looked surprised, then happy. "Oh—yes, thanks, I mean, I'm glad you're pleased, I suppose—" he laughed at himself, suddenly looking much less tense and somehow younger.

"What else would I be?" Sirius asked without thinking, then wondered if he should've bitten his tongue when Remus' face suddenly closed off again. Remus didn't speak for several moments, and Sirius kicked himself mentally. But then, quietly, Remus said, "It's—well, it's complicated, but I haven't always gotten such amiable responses when I've told others that I'm—gay." It took Remus an extra second to get the last word out. Sirius nodded sympathetically, smile gone. "Yeah, there are always assholes. Mine happened to be my family."

 

"Your family were traditionalists?"

Sirius nodded darkly, taking a drink. "Oh yes. My parents were extremely angry when they discovered I had a boyfriend. They didn't quite understand the 'attracted to multiple genders,' bit, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference; they wanted someone they could control, who would marry into a rich family and produce lots of little heirs. I left my brother to fill that role."

Sirius stared into his half-empty drink, suddenly feeling moody. Then he shook himself. "Anyway, there's multiple reasons why I distanced myself from my family. But," he tipped his glass to Remus, smiling. "To being a filthy queer."

Remus laughed softly, and a touch sardonically, then clinked his glass against Sirius'; they both drank.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing media: their favorite books and movies, the best and worst book-to-movie adaptations ("He should've just made his own movie," Remus said firmly of _The Shining_. "But it's a classic!" Sirius protested a little desperately. "A classic that takes unnecessary liberties with the original novel," Remus argued). Sirius ordered another drink, and Remus switched to water, admitting that his one drink had already started affecting him. At one point, Rosmerta brought over a basket of mozzarella sticks she claimed hadn't been attached to any patron's order (Sirius knew better, but was grateful, and made a note to leave her a larger tip than usual), and he and Remus continued talking with their mouths full of cheese and bread.

As Sirius finished his drink and Remus started yawning, Sirius reluctantly asked for the bill; Rosmerta raised her eyebrows and mouthed " _Two_?" and Sirius shook his head and held up one finger. She smiled and winked, then took his credit card.

"Oh!" Remus exclaimed. "How much was mine?" He took out his wallet.

"Doesn't matter, I got it," Sirius said.

Remus frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but Sirius interrupted, "I promised to take you to drinks here, remember? And—" he hesitated, having been about to mention Remus' use of the word "date" in his text earlier, but instead said, "And I wanted to thank you for coming along with me today."

Remus' frown softened. "Anytime, Sirius," he murmured, and Sirius felt rather hot around the collar. Remus quirked an eyebrow. "But I get the next time."

Sirius grinned. "But of course," he said graciously. _Next time._  

The bone-chilling wind prevented Remus from insisting he take the bus home, so both men got on Sirius' bike without much discussion. Sirius' heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest and his stomach churned with nerves as they sped towards Remus' apartment; the hardest part was coming.

They pulled up to Remus', and the librarian shivered violently as he got off the bike.

"You need a jacket, not just a sweater," Sirius admonished gently. "The wind is not very forgiving on a motorcycle, I'm afraid."

"So I've discovered," Remus said, his teeth chattering slightly.

Sirius smiled to cover his nerves. He got off the bike too, and waited as Remus gingerly pulled off the helmet, then smiled back at Sirius. "Thank you for today," he said softly.

"Anytime," Sirius replied. He felt slightly out of touch with his body, which was buzzing with anticipation, though he had no plan for what he wanted to do. He took his opportunity, however, when Remus offered the helmet back to Sirius; Sirius laid one hand over Remus', and took the helmet with the other. Remus inhaled sharply, and their eyes met. Remus' eyes were just as pretty as Sirius remembered in the library weeks ago; hazel with flecks of gold, even when just illuminated by the harsh streetlight. Remus' lips were parted slightly, his pupils dilated. Sirius shoved the helmet onto the handlebars of his bike without taking his eyes off Remus' face, and rubbed his thumb across the back of Remus' hand. Remus curled his fingers around Sirius', emboldening Sirius, and he took a step closer. He could count the faint freckles dusting Remus' cheeks and nose, and he raised his free hand to push back a lock of hair behind Remus' ear, then let his hand rest on the other man's neck. Remus' eyes fluttered shut briefly, and his lips parted even more. Sirius took a breath, then leaned in, slowly, until he was a hair's breadth from Remus' mouth; then Remus closed the distance, and their lips met. Remus sighed softly, opening his mouth under Sirius', and Sirius followed suit, trying to reign himself in and go slow. He focused on the smell of Remus; clean mint soap, the pleasantly musty scent of old sweaters, and dry sweat. Sirius curled his hand more tightly on Remus' neck, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Sirius hesitantly lapped his tongue against Remus' lips, then pulled back very slightly to let Remus dictate their speed—but suddenly there was only cold air where Remus had been. It took a second for Sirius to refocus, and he saw Remus standing a foot away from him, eyes huge and arms folded tight against his body.

"Sorry," Sirius' voice was breathless. "We can slow down—"

"I can't," Remus whispered, looking stricken.

"What?"

"I—I can't do this," Remus choked out.

Sirius heart seemed to stop. "Remus—why? I'm so sorry if—I mean, I thought you wanted—"

"I did. I do," Remus sounded anguished, and his shoulders hunched forward as he held himself more tightly.

"Then _why_ —"

"It's complicated," Remus shivered and avoided Sirius' eyes.

"Then explain it to me, Remus!" Sirius pleaded, stepping towards Remus and placing a hand on his arm. "I want to know, to know _you_ , and—not just as a fling, I want to be with you, if that's what you want too."

Remus stared at Sirius despondently, his eyes shiny and mouth drawn down. "Sirius, you don't know what you're saying . . . "

For the first time, a spark of anger overcame the shock and desperation Sirius was feeling. "What—I don't _know_ ? Know what? Please just fucking _tell_ me, Remus, and whatever it is I don't care, it doesn't matter!"

Then Remus did the last thing Sirius had expected: he laughed. It was low, sarcastic, and cruel; it didn't sound anything like Remus. "Oh, I've heard that one before!"

" _What_ —"

"I'm sick, Sirius," Remus' voice was as cold and biting as the air around them.

Sirius felt his face go slack with shock, and he whispered, "Sick?"

Remus' smile was a grimace. "The gay plague. HIV. I've got it."

Sirius' mind went completely blank, and his body seemed to shut down; his hand fell limply from Remus' arm, and he took a step back. He stared at Remus, whose smile was gone. He stared right back at Sirius, eyes hard and distant. There was almost a minute where neither man spoke, and they could only hear distant traffic and the high-pitched whistling of the autumn air around them. Then Remus said, very softly, "It matters. It always matters." He turned and walked to his building without looking back.

Sirius wasn't sure how long he sat outside Remus' apartment, not moving or even really thinking, just—processing. Existing. But by the time he got back to his house, Sirius didn't have any feeling in his body. He was grateful for that.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back (again)! I would apologize for the extra-long delay, but as I've been preparing to check into a psychiatric outpatient program, I figure that and my general mental health are a good excuse. I can't promise regular updates, but I haven't forgotten this fic, it's very close to my heart.  
> Also, you can always follow me on twitter for my mad ravings, updates, and Wolfstar lust @fallingpanda24. I follow back :)  
> Enjoy!

Sirius stood in front of the door to Grimmauld Place, frozen metaphorically and almost literally for several minutes. He wasn't sure what to do; he didn't want to be alone in his miserable old house, but the shock was paralyzing. After several minutes, his body seemed to utilize muscle memory from years of seeking comfort from Lily and James, and he numbly crossed the street to the Potter's. 

It was just about eleven, and Sirius had always tried to offer some courtesy to James and Lily when it came to bursting into their house late at night, so he slammed his fist against the door several times, then waited; distantly, he mused that he probably could've called one of them first. 

Lily opened the door before Sirius could continue considering the wisdom of placing a call, and she said, "Sirius!" in a pleased voice before taking stock of him; then she looked shocked and worried. "Oh god, Sirius, what happened? Come on, come in, come in." She ushered him to the living room. 

Lily guided him onto the couch and took his hand. "Jesus, Sirius, you're like ice! Why are you so cold, what's wrong?" She rubbed her palms over his numb skin. 

Sirius looked at Lily, her brows drawn together in her pale face, and he had a vivid flash of Remus' stricken expression from less than half an hour ago. He felt slightly sick. 

"Remus," he croaked; he cleared his throat and tried again. "I saw Remus tonight."

"Okay. How was that?" Sirius could hear Lily's Nurse Mode had activated, and if he didn't feel so stunned that might have annoyed him.

"Alright," Sirius thought of their shared revelations over being queer, their playful banter, of Remus smiling at him over his drink. "Good," he amended. 

"That's good. Is everything alright with Remus then?" Lily asked gently, rubbing the back of Sirius' other hand in circles with her thumbs. Sirius' fingers tingled as the blood started circulating. 

Sirius thought of kissing Remus, of the initial joy; of his hurt when Remus pulled away; of Remus' brittle disappointment and sad resignation when Sirius failed in his promise that whatever Remus could tell him wouldn't matter.

"I think I fucked up, Lils," Sirius whispered. All sensation came rushing back at once; Sirius' chest ached, he couldn't breathe, his head pounded, and his eyes burned with tears. 

"Oh, Sirius," Lily pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. Sirius hugged her back, letting the hot tears run down his face, hating himself for so many reasons. Lily rubbed Sirius' back soothingly and even kissed the top of his head as if he were a child, and Sirius hunched slightly to prevent a sob from escaping. 

They sat like that for several minutes. When Sirius sat up, at last feeling like he could function, he heard footsteps, and Harry came into the living room. He saw Sirius and looked startled. "Sirius?" he asked tentatively. 

"I think Sirius and I are going to talk for a little while, love," Lily told Harry. "Your father should be home in an hour or so. Do you need anything?"

"Er, no, I just wondered who was at the door," Harry looked worriedly at Sirius. "Um, I'll go to bed then. G'night."

"Goodnight, sweetie," Lily watched Harry leave, then turned back to Sirius. "What happened, Sirius?" she asked quietly.

Sirius swallowed and turned his body towards Lily. "We . . . we kissed. And it was good. Great," he took a breath, sorting his words. Lily waited. "And he . . . he stopped, and said 'I can't do this,' and I asked him what he meant, but he wouldn't tell me, just said he couldn't. But I—I kept pushing him, said I wanted to be with him and wanted to know, and he . . . he . . ." Sirius took another breath. "He's sick, Lils. He has HIV."

Lily's face remained a neutral mask, and she nodded. "Okay. What did you say?"

Sirius' face burned. "Nothing. I just . . . froze. I couldn't—think, I couldn't process it, I just—stood there. He said that it 'always matters,' and he left. Then I came here." 

Lily didn't say anything, and Sirius was relieved. He was feeling so much: shame, shock, confusion, regret; but most of all he felt drained. He just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a week.    

Finally, Lily asked quietly, "What do you want to do now?"

Sirius laughed weakly. "I have no idea."

"Does this change how you feel about Remus?"

He considered this. He was shocked, concerned for Remus, and definitely felt some hesitation, but overall . . . "No," he said softly. 

"Then you have a decision to make," Lily said firmly. She took Sirius' hands again and looked him square in the eye. "You have to know if you're willing to be in a relationship with someone who's HIV positive; if you're ready to take precautions and accept the risks. You  _ can not _ fool around with his heart here, because Remus is sure to have already experienced enough heartbreak."

Sirius held Lily's gaze and nodded. "Okay."

"No," Lily said, more firmly still. "You can't say 'okay', not right now. You need to do some research, go to the doctor, and sit with yourself until you  _ know _ you're ready for this. Right now you're in shock, you haven't had time to process anything. I won't let you rush into this." 

Sirius nodded again. It wasn't a surprise Lily was very sought-after as a nurse, or that she had been promoted to administrator; she didn't fuck around. 

"And Sirius?" Lily said, in a slightly more gentle tone. "I understand this came out of left field for you, and I won't betray your or Remus' confidence, but in the future don't disclose someone else's status without their consent; it's like being outed and then some. It's not as bad as thirty years ago, but HIV and AIDS are still heavily stigmatized."

Sirius nodded for a third time, guiltily. Lily smiled. "Right. Let's get you to bed."

 

Sirius didn't go to the library at all on Monday, and Remus never contacted him. As bad as Sirius wanted to make up with Remus, he forced himself to heed Lily's advice.

Where he could get away with it, Sirius left his students alone, only walking around the room once per period so he could get back to his research. 

During fifth period, Harry came up to his desk.

"Hey," he said in a would-be-normal voice. "How's it going?"

Sirius gave his godson a rueful half-smile. "As fine as I can be. I'm . . . sorry you saw me like that."

"No, it's fine," Harry said quickly. "I just—wanted to make sure everything was . . . okay."

Sirius thought for a minute. He wasn't quite sure how to explain the situation he was in right now. Not wanting to reward his godson's thoughtfulness with a dismissal, especially when Harry was looking at him with such concern, Sirius said slowly, "I had to make a decision of sorts. And now, I have to apologize to someone. Well, I would have apologized anyway, but—" he sighed. "It's a bit of a clusterfuck."

Harry nodded. "Alright. Well, er—glad you know what you're doing, I guess. Er—yeah." Harry shrugged awkwardly, and Sirius smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled back and joined Ron and Hermione at their table, where Hermione was carefully sketching and Ron was adding detail to a clay sculpture. Sirius watched his godson and friends fondly; they were all good kids. Sirius was proud of them, of Harry especially. He tore his eyes away and went back to his research. 

 

It was almost 7PM by the time Sirius was finally able to retire to his music room, but it wasn't strictly to relax. Still taking Lily's advice to heart, Sirius figured he needed to fit in some serious contemplation to make sure this was what he wanted to do. He was going to put on a record, pour a glass of bourbon, and organize of the information in his head. He promptly did the first two things, but half an hour later when he had to turn the record over, all he had accomplished was memorizing the cracks and discolorations in the ceiling above his couch. He rubbed his forehead frustratedly; Sirius felt like there was some crucial step in this whole thing he was missing, and was afraid that he'd fuck everything up if he didn't figure out what it was. 

Before he could play the B side of  _As I Call You Down_ , the doorbell rang jangled several times in a row. He set his empty bourbon glass down and checked his phone on his way down the stairs; no texts from James, Lily, Harry, or Hagrid—the only people who were in his house on a frequent basis—and as he approached the door a wild hope sprang in Sirius chest, increasing his heart rate at once. He flung open the door, and the hope died immediately. But he was still pleased to see James, his hair as wild and unruly as ever, a large plastic bag in one hand and two bottles clutched slightly precariously in the other. 

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" James taunted, and Sirius rolled his eyes before stepping back. The bag turned out to be full of takeout from their favorite Indian place, the bottles filled with mead. Sirius was touched at James' thoughtfulness, and expressed this to James by sniggering loudly at his T-shirt, which was on inside-out. It was James' turn to roll his eyes; he took off his shirt, and he snapped it at Sirius before putting it on the right way. They continued sniping at each other as they dished up, then watched re-runs of  _ The Vampire Diaries _ at James' insistence. Sirius mimicked some of the more melodramatic performances while James protested. Sirius felt relaxed for the first time in days.

It wasn't until they were on the third episode of their binge, the food a distant memory, opening the second bottle of mead, did James finally say what Sirius had been waiting for.

"So—you've been doing okay?" James' tone was light, but when Sirius glaced at him, he saw seriousness on James' face. Sirius sighed. "What did Lily tell you?" The worry that had faded as he hung out with James started to gnaw at Sirius' gut again.

"Nothing," James said. "Really!" he insisted at Sirius' doubtful glance. "All she said was that you were really upset, but you couldn't really talk about the details. Lily said it wasn't her place to tell either, and that she only knew because it had been an emergency."

"An emergency of sorts, I suppose," Sirius murmured into his mead glass. More like he had grossly overreacted to a situation that, really, he should have been more prepared for, given his orientation.

"Is everyone involved alright?" James asked neutrally. While Sirius trusted Lily not to divulge Remus' status to James, James and Lily had their own spousal language, so it was likely James at least knew that Remus was involved. And that was fine for him to know.

"Physically, yes. Emotionally, a hot goddamn mess. At least, I am," Sirius paused. "I have a plan."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Now I just have to wait til tomorrow to actually go through with it."

James made an affirming noise. "You need any help?"

"Nah, I've got it all under control."

"You make it sound so complex and mysterious."

Sirius chuckled reluctantly. "It's really not. I just have to rely on my smooth-talking skills, my sense of humility, and honesty—then hope that Remus accepts it." Sirius looked at James; his friend's mouth was tight, his gaze determined. Sirius sighed. "Go ahead."

James burst out laughing, and Sirius cracked a grin.

"HAH!  _ Humility _ ! Ah, Sirius, I can't say you aren't a fast talker, as well as one of the best bullshitters I've ever known, but—oh  _ man _ . It's a good thing you're pretty, Padfoot m'boy.  _ Humility _ ." James continued to giggle, and despite the insults, Sirius felt much better.

 

Sirius spent Tuesday in one of two states: a jumpy mess of nerves clawing at all his senses, and Zen-like calm, with no in-between. The result of this was that he was exhausted by the time school was over, but he was still determined to carry out his plan. The first step involved going to Remus' place unannounced, which seemed a tad risky. Sirius delayed, staying at the school much longer than usual, trying and only half-succeeding at working. Finally, at 5:30, Sirius couldn't justify waiting any longer, and he got on his bike. 

He parked on the street, not seeing any signs that said he couldn't, and tucked his helmet under his arm as he approached the apartment front door, which was unlocked. It lead into a tiny room that only held a row of mailboxes set into the wall, a second door, and an intercom. Sirius smoothed his hair down nervously as he scanned the list of names until he found  Lupin - 43 . 

Taking a deep breath, Sirius pushed the button. After several nerve-wracking seconds, the intercom clicked, and Remus' mild voice came through: "Yes?"

"Erm," Sirius didn't see a "Talk" button, so he just half-shouted near the speaker, "Remus, it's me. It's Sirius. Can I—can I come up?"

There was a thick, tense, silence and Sirius held his breath. Finally, the intercom buzzed loudly and Sirius heard a  _ click _ ; he leapt towards the door and pulled it open, his heart thumping wildly. His pulse only increased as he rode the rickety, dimly lit elevator to the fourth floor. At the door or apartment 43, Sirius wiped his damp palms on his jeans, then knocked. It opened almost immediately, and Sirius faced Remus for the first time in two days. All the air seemed to leave his lungs, and Sirius momentarily forgot how to make conversation. "Hi," he choked out.

"Hello," Remus said cooly. Sirius winced and forced himself to relax, managing to sound more natural when he asked, "Can I come in?"

Remus regarded him with a chilly, distant stare, then stepped back, allowing Sirius to slip past him.

Unsurprisingly, Remus' apartment was dominated by books: books stacked on the end tables surrounding an old overstuffed couch; multiple bookshelves full to the brim with tomes; a small table with even more books, plus notebooks and an old laptop. Sheets of paper with covered in small writing were tacked up on the wall around the table. Sirius could see into the tiny kitchen on the left, opening into an even tinier dining area that could only very generously be called a room, and a hallway that must lead to Remus' bedroom. In terms of non-book items the apartment was very spartan, and showed its age with cracked, discolored walls and a carpet that may have once been beige. But it was clean, and smelled pleasantly of musty books, plus a sharp pine smell that may have come from a candle.

Sirius took all this in, then turned around to face Remus, who had only taken a few steps from the door and had his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Sirius to speak. Sirius swallowed hard and adjusted the helmet under his arm. 

"So," he began hesitantly, trying to grab the remnants of his carefully prepared speech as it instantly started to fly out of his head, "Um. I've been thinking about—what you told me. About you being HIV positive," he added the last part while looking Remus in the eye; he didn't want to speak in euphemisms or have Remus think him a coward. Remus didn't react, and Sirius continued,"And first off, I want to apologize about how I reacted—or rather, how I didn't react. It caught me really off guard, but I should have been more—tactful, I guess." Sirius studied Remus' face carefully; the other man was focused on Sirius, but his expression still gave nothing away. "The other thing I wanted to say was—" his throat was suddenly bone-dry, and Sirius couldn't remember the last time he had felt so nervous talking to someone he liked; he felt as though there had never been so much at stake. "The other thing—I just wanted to say that what I said before still stands: I don't care. I want to be with you." He let the words hang in the air; after a few seconds he frowned and reconsidered. "I mean, I do care about your status because it affects your life, but it doesn't change the way I feel about you."

Remus had remained still as a statue the whole time Sirius had been speaking, face pale and frozen-looking. After a pause he said flatly, "Are you done?"

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"I said, are you done?"

Sirius frowned. "I heard . . . what do you mean? Do you . . . want me to leave?" His stomach turned at the thought of leaving the conversation where it was.

"If you're done, sure," Remus said neutrally, and Sirius' nerves died down somewhat, to be replaced with frustration.

"If I'm  _ done _ ?" Sirius repeated. He shook his head. "Remus, what are you saying? Are you not . . . interested?" 

Remus' face flickered with some emotion; some kind of deep sadness, of anguish. Then his expression reverted to its previous emotionless state. "I don't think it matters," he said cooly. "Not if you're just going to freak out at the first risk and bail, like the others."

Sirius' mouth gaped openly rather stupidly, and he shut it quickly. "Well," he began haltingly, trying to tamp down his temper and indignation, plus irritation on behalf of Remus and the idiot boyfriends he must've had in the past; he tried to let logic and empathy guide his words instead and continued, "What makes you think that I'll be like the others?"

A fleeting expression crossed Remus' face again before he said, "I have no proof that you aren't." But he sounded uncertain, which gave Sirius hope. 

Sirius took a few cautious steps towards Remus, till there was only a couple feet separating them. "Will you give me a chance?"

Though he tried to keep his face as impassive as before, Sirius could see that Remus' eyes were shiny. "Why should I?" he whispered. Remus swallowed, and his voice grew harder. "I'm tired, I'm so tired the whole charade. It'll start out promising, and you'll be devoted and sympathetic for a couple weeks; but then by the time I've let myself really fall for you, you'll be in over your head and want something simpler, nothing personal, not because you're scared, but it's just too complicated and can we still be friends? Because I'm a good guy and so  _ brave _ for living as I am, but by that time I'll have been conveniently 'let go' and have to find another job, or I'll be so goddamned tired and weak from my meds that I can't go to work and  _ then _ lose my job—but either way I end up as I always do; poor, sick, and alone. It's never changed, and I don't see why it will with you."

Sirius' eyes burned, and his chest ached; not because it seemed like Remus was turning him down, but for all the misery Remus had experienced. It made him hate people like Snape, who made Remus' life more difficult for seemingly no reason, even more. Far from dissuading him, Remus' speech strengthened his resolve to show Remus how much he cared for him. 

Sirius took another step closer. "Remus," he said in a low voice, and he saw the other man's shoulders hitch, just once. "I don't expect you to have faith when I say this, but it's been so long— years, closer to decades—since I've felt anything like this. I—" Sirius ran his hands through his hair, desperately racking his brain for some magic promise that would convince Remus to trust him. 

Remus' face was flicking between expressions faster than Sirius could consciously register them; he could see the sadness weighing Remus down the most, along with some anger Sirius couldn't parse. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I—" he sighed. "I want you to believe me when I say that I'm saving us both a lot of heartache."

Sirius' frustration rose, and his tone was sharp when he said, "I don't want you to decide anything for me, Remus." He blew out a breath, thought for a few moments, then crossed his arms and said firmly, "Obviously I can't change your mind tonight. But I'm not giving up, Remus. I can be very stubborn, and I know what I want. And I want you to give me a chance."

Remus sighed again wearily, but said nothing. Sirius picked his helmet off the floor; it was time for him to leave. He looked at Remus, longing to kiss him again, or hold him, but Sirius didn't want to push his luck; he put a hand on Remus' arm and gently squeezed, and Remus didn't move away. Sirius gazed into Remus' eyes for several moments before finally walking towards the door, determination mostly overriding the sick melancholy in his gut. Sirius wasn't about to give up, even though it seemed like Remus had. He'd be back. 

 

At 6AM on Monday, Sirius was parked outside of Remus' apartment, shivering in the early-morning chill. He knew he was probably obscenely early, but Sirius also knew that taking the buses often required getting up obscenely early, so it probably balanced out. Sure enough, at 6:15, the door opened and Remus shuffled out, bundled in multiple layers. He was halfway down the walk before he even noticed Sirius, sitting astride his bike, waiting. Remus froze, eyes huge in his pale face. Sirius tentatively held out the extra helmet he had bought the night before; he focused on keeping his hand from trembling, even as his arm quickly started to ache from offering the helmet at arm's length. When Remus still didn't move, Sirius said, "I thought it would be quicker and easier to carpool. Er, or—you know what I mean." 

Remus continued staring at Sirius, seeming to search his face for something. Finally, he shuffled towards the bike, and took the proffered helmet. Remus mounted the bike silently, his arms barely ghosting near Sirius' waist. Sirius breathed out a sigh, and started the bike up. 

The silence was more natural when they were on the road, but once Sirius had parked the bike in his Hogwarts staff lot he started to worry about what he should say—should he even say anything? Remus solved this problem for him by dismounting the bike impressively smoothly and handing his helmet to Sirius before unexpectedly giving him a small but genuine smile. Sirius grinned back, only half-concerned that he his expression showed exactly how he felt; at this point, it was probably better to show all his cards to Remus.

Remus went inside the school. And Sirius went to his classroom.

For the next several weeks, Sirius showed up at Remus' apartment at 6AM, and even took to waiting inside the apartment lobby by the third day so he didn't freeze on his bike. He would next see Remus during their lunch hour, usually with Hagrid, in the staffroom, Sirius' room, or occasionally the library. At the end of the school day, Sirius drove Remus to his apartment, then went back to his own house. The routine was an odd echo of when they were first getting to know each other, except the knowledge of their feelingsvand of Remus' status sat between them, politely avoided in conversation but glaringly obvious to both parties.

After a month, Sirius very casually asked Remus, "I need some new reading material—want to come with me to Flourish and Blotts?" He barely breathed as Remus paused, then quietly said, "Yes, alright then." Sirius failed to contain his grin. 

They went to the bookstore the very next day. Alberic was delighted to see them again, as was Crumb the cat, though he displayed his affection in a much more aloof manner. Sirius followed behind Remus, discreetly writing down titles that he lingered over. What kind of prospective boyfriend would he be if he didn't try to woo Remus with thoughtful gifts? 

Sirius bought _The Golden Compass_  and _The Fifth Season_ , both at Remus' suggestion, and they went to coffee again. Conversation was muted and somewhat hesitant. Remembering their last visit to Flourish and Blotts, Sirius said, "That book of poetry that Alberic gave you the last time we visited—what did you think of it?"

Remus smiled. "I enjoyed it quite a lot. Faiz Ahmed Faiz's words were quite evocative and emotional."

"I agree, at least from the half a poem of his I read."

Remus' smile became melancholy. "Yes. That one was one of my favorites."

Sirius frowned. "What's wrong?"

Remus concentrated on raising and lowering his teabag in the hot water for a minute, avoiding Sirius' eyes. Then, softly, he began reciting: 

" _ Before you came, _ __   
_ things were as they should be: _ __   
_ the sky was the dead-end of sight, _ __   
_ the road was just a road, wine merely wine. _ __   
__   
_ Now everything is like my heart, _ __   
_ a color at the edge of blood: _ __   
_ the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns, _ __   
_ the gold when we meet, the season ablaze, _ __   
_ the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames, _ __   
_ and the black when you cover the earth _ __   
_ with the coal of dead fires. _ __   
__   
_ And the sky, the road, the glass of wine? _ __   
_ The sky is a shirt wet with tears, _ __   
_ the road a vein about to break, _ __   
_ and the glass of wine a mirror in which _ __   
_ the sky, the road, the world keep changing. _ __   
__   
_ Don’t leave now that you’re here— _ __   
_ Stay. So the world may become like itself again: _ __   
_ so the sky may be the sky, _ __   
_ the road a road, _ _   
_ __ and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine. "

Sirius gazed, transfixed, at Remus, his heart in his throat. He swallowed hard. Remus was still avoiding his eyes. "It's beautiful," he said a little huskily. Remus sipped his tea silently. Sirius' mind churned as he tried to suss out what Remus was thinking—then the obvious occurred to him. "Remus—why does that make you sad?" 

Remus' hazel eyes finally met Sirius', and Sirius was suddenly aware of the atmosphere normalcy of the coffee shop around them; the hissing and whirring of coffee being made, the chatter of patrons and workers, the unobtrusive jazz over the loudspeaker. It felt very at odds with the conversation the two men found themselves in. Remus took a deep breath, then spoke. "I've had . . . great difficulty finding stability in my life, Sirius. And many times I've thought that I found somewhere I could stand, it would inevitably shatter. I don't know if I can pick myself back up."

"You wouldn't have to do it alone," Sirius murmured. "You know how I feel about you, Remus."

Remus blinked hard; his breathing was shallow. Sirius slowly reached across the table and laid his hand over one of Remus', which were clutching his tea mug like a life preserver. Remus' breathing slowed; he looked at Sirius. Sirius squeezed his hand and smiled. "A lot of this is new territory for me," he confessed. "And I really want to be with you, but I also want you to trust me. So, we can start here," he squeezed Remus' hand again. "Is that okay?" 

Remus took a deep breath, then gave Sirius a watery smile. "I'd like that," he whispered. He let go of his mug and wove their fingers together. It felt like a promise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faiz Ahmed Faiz is one of my favorite poets. I recommend "The Rebel's Silhouette"; it's a good collection.
> 
> As I Call You Down is by Fistful of Mercy, which features George Harrison's son Dhani Harrison!
> 
> The Golden Compass is the first of His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman, and is one of my favorite books ever. The Fifth Season is by N.K. Jemisin; I've heard many good things about it, but haven't read it yet.
> 
> Also, somehow I've neglected to mention thus far that the title of this fic is a line from my absolute favorite song of all time (lots of favorites today), "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel.


End file.
